Will She Remember Me?
by bloodyblond
Summary: 19 years ago, Jasper Whitlock turned away from true love and settled for a love he wasn't told had an expiry date from the minute it began. When fate offers him a second chance, will he take it? Will Peter and Charlotte even let him? And more importantly, how will he feel when he realizes that he's been the one forgotten this time?
1. Three Moments in Time

**Disclaimer: ****All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.**

_******A sequel to my story: Will He Remember Me?... If you want to understand anything that's going on in this story, you HAVE TO read that one first. Like legit, shut your eyes and hop right over there before I spoil it for you.  
**_

_******And for those of you that have already, this is for everyone who asked... and those of you who didn't but wished it anyways... I so know you did. ;)  
**_

******_... But only a taste for now... *MUWHAHAHAH*_  
**

* * *

She was dead. She had killed herself. He didn't know how he knew exactly, but he knew.

**-oo-**

_Pain_

_Blackness_

_Empty_

_gonegonegonegonegone..._

"What's wrong with him?!" A petite vampiress shrieked from the corner of the room where she was clutching her partially torn arm.

"What's going on? What's he doing to us?" A hulking male moaned, desperately holding a blonde beauty to his side as their bodies spasmed with each new wave of agony.

"What's he thinking?" The paternal head of the house demanded rather distractedly from his protective stance in front of his cowering mate. His question was directed towards a crouching, bronzed haired figure who was tearing at his head in obvious pain.

"I don't know!" The younger vampire yelled helplessly over the roaring chaos. "He keeps repeating the word gone." He yanked harder at his messy strands. "So dark... make it stop," he whimpered. "It hurts."

"Gone? What's gone?" The petite vampiress screeched again, taking a hesitant step towards the snarling vampire, her damaged arm lying limply at her side while the other was raised in a placating gesture.

"Alice..." A voice at her back warned.

"He's my husband, Carlisle," she replied in a hesitant, yet assured voice.

The roaring stopped and eyes, the whites of them almost eclipsed by a soul-clenching black, met her own terrified topaz.

"_Not yours_," he snarled, in a deep, guttural tone none of them had ever heard from him before. The utterly feral qualities of it were enough to send shivers down the spines of every single vampire in the room. "_NEVER yours_."

The family caught the emphasis on the first word, but didn't understand it and, because they were all facing Alice's back, none of them were able to see the guilt momentarily replace the fear in her eyes.

"Jasper... I don't..." she stammered, then flinched back when he took a threatening step towards her. Cowering, she clamped her eyes shut, preparing herself for the blow she was certain was coming. The sound of breaking glass met her ears instead, and her eyes flew open immediately, catching the tail end of Jasper jumping through the window and darting into the trees lining their property.

The second he disappeared, Alice literally felt her visions fray, as every one involving Jasper grew blurry, almost as if she was witnessing them through dirty glasses.

For the first time in her long life, Alice felt fear.

But in that moment, like the rest of the family, she remained silent.

**-oo-**

He was shirtless. His sweater_,_ torn to ribbons from the grasping branches he'd sped thorough, had been ripped off ages ago. Venom ran down his chest from the marks he had clawed over his own heart, the pain of them doing little to hide the agony he was still feeling.

As he flitted through the forest, felling trees in his wake, the small bit of Jasper that remained conscious in that moment, realized belatedly he had made the wrong choice.

_Isabella_...

**-oo-**

The fire had lasted for three days, helped along by the gasoline that had fueled it. The two vampires had remained there, silent, until the last flames petered out. The male knew then it was time.

Now, kneeled in front of a proud oak, yards away from ground littered with angry, black scorch marks, a broken vampire kept his promise to a girl.

Digging deeply into the soil at the base of the tree, he dropped the small, golden object into the hole. He paused midway through covering it with a harsh sob.

A gentle, feminine hand found its way to his shoulder and he clutched at it desperately. "I miss her, Char," he choked out.

"I know, sweetheart," she murmured softly.

"We only had her for a day, but I want her back."

"I do to," she agreed, raising the hand that had been rubbing his shoulder to run soothingly through his hair.

Peter finished covering the hole, making sure to pack the dirt tightly. He began placing various stones in a rough pattern over the flattened ground. When they final stone was laid, into what now resembled a heart shape, he stood and wiped his hands on his worn jeans.

Looking off into the horizon, the sky alight with the swirl of gold, pinks and oranges of a beautiful sunset, Peter prayed for the first and only time as a vampire, while the memory of his softly spoken plea, floated away on a serene breeze.

_"I want her back."_

**-oo-**

At Phoenix Medical, eight months and twenty four days later, a harsh cry rent the still air. Eventually it quieted to a melodic coo as a large, tan and slightly callused hand gently caressed the brown tuft of hair growing on the head of their newborn daughter.

A proud father whispered gruffly to his exhausted, but radiant wife, "What do you wanna call her?"

A dreamy smile split the woman's face as she took in the image of father and daughter. "I've always liked the name Isabella," she replied thoughtfully.

The man nodded, running a finger down his daughter's cheek while stoically ignoring the tears gathered in his eyes. "Isabella," he repeated. A grin tugged at his lip as he thought of his Nan. She had been a lovable old kook who, by the time he had reached _'breeding age'_ (her words exactly) made him swear he would name his first born after her... boy or girl (kook remember?) She may have been dead for almost ten years now, but he had never forgotten his promise. He realized his beloved Nan's name would pair perfectly with this moniker.

"Welcome to the world, Isabella Marie Swan," he whispered.

Warm, wizened chocolate eyes opened for the first time. A life begun anew.

* * *

_**A/N2: Yes, just for the record, I know that babies eyes are usually blue when they're born (I do research things... occasionally) But I also read some stories where people have swore their children were born with brown eyes, green eyes, hazel... you get the point... and it wouldn't have been as significant if I didn't make them this color. Just pretend you're one of them mmkay?... please?**_


	2. Passing Years: The Aftermath Part 1

**Disclaimer: ****All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.**

******_A/N: Again, this is a sequel to my story Will He Remember Me? Please read that before you read this chapter, or you may have difficulty following it.  
_**

******_I'll admit it, I'm sorta playing with dates and kinda throwing them out there hoping they all add up in the end. Obviously since this is A/U they won't be the same you're used to anyways but I'm at least trying to match them up for the timeline that I've created. I'm not going to constantly bog you (and my story) down with numbers, so just to give you a rough idea, I made the decision to keep Bella's birthday the same _********_(as stated in the Twilight Saga Wiki which has suddenly become my best friend)_********_, only changing the year to 2000. So to have her born in September (and factoring in the information I provided last chapter in regards to her birth) that means, she would have died in late December 1999. Jasper's important dates (birth and death) will also remain the same._  
**

* * *

Listless golden eyes watched the pale hand that gently traced the letters carved into the tree, while the limp hand at his side clutched a silver chain looped through a small, golden ring. Jasper eased slightly on the pressure, afraid he'd crush the hardly gained treasure into nothing more than dust, dust... like her.

_'Has it been almost 19 years already?'_ He wondered dully, bringing the golden object to his nose and inhaling greedily, desperately trying to catch a scent that had long since faded

He opened his palm and stared morosely at the ring that would forever symbolize the day he had made the worst mistake of his life.

**-oo-**

It had been hell attempting to get its location from Peter and Charlotte in the first place. He now understood all too well how much his indifference towards them after he had met the Cullen's had felt, now that he was on the opposite side of the fence. It had taken him almost two years after... _that day_ and, he was guilty to admit it, a week after he found out Alice had met her true mate, for him to attempt contact with them.

It had not gone well.

It had probably not been the best idea, starting off the conversation that Alice had left him and who she had left him for.

"How does it feel, asshole?" Peter had snarled into his ear, before abruptly hanging up on him.

Jasper had listened to the dial tone for hours, until a concerned Esme had slipped the cell phone from his hands.

It took another 15 years of ignored phone calls and emails before they would even talk to him again, but he hadn't given them much of a choice, considering he had tracked them down directly to their house (a task they hadn't made easy, deliberately moving any time he appeared to be getting close.)

Peter took one look at his hollowed features, the area surrounding his black eyes so dark, they made them look concave, before reluctantly stepping aside and inviting him in.

There had been several moments of awkward silence before Jasper finally broke it.

"Why did you decide to stop running from me?"

Not looking the slightest bit guilty, Peter met his defeated gaze with a firm look. "Why did you keep trying?"

"Had to," Jasper mumbled.

Peter snorted. "Why? Cause the Cullen's told you to hit the dirt?"

"No, I-," he paused. "How did you _know_ about that?" It was obvious he was asking if Peter had had a 'hunch' about it.

Peter gestured towards a hovering Charlotte. "She may have called the Cullen's once..." a mini glare in her direction, "when the guilt got the best of her. They told her you were no longer living with them, pretty coolly I might add."

Guilt colored Jasper's features. "Did they say why?"

Charlotte finally joined Peter on the couch. "I didn't ask," she admitted softly. "It felt like they wouldn't have told me anyways."

"What _did_ you do?" Peter apparently had no problem asking.

"I..." Jasper turned away with a sigh. "Alice."

When it became clear that Peter wasn't willing to accept that answer, Jasper heaved a sigh and reluctantly continued.

_"_After _**that** _day..." he began_...  
_

**-oo-**

It had taken him two days before he finally gained control of himself, coming to in a small cave surrounded by animal carcases that had been literally savaged.

It took him another five days before he finally made his way back...

_Was this even home anymore? _He wondered wearily, staring up at the house where he had once felt he'd belonged.

A wary Carlisle and Esme had greeted him; the latter immediately attempting to approach his battered, dirty form, her face and emotions reflecting a motherly compassion.

Jasper had waved her off, none too gently, feeling guilty as her face fell. "I need some time," he explained softly.

He felt hesitation swirl around Carlisle before falling into, what he called, 'clinical mode'. "She's dead isn't she?" He questioned solemnly. "That girl, Bel-"

"Don't." Jasper warned, his tone dropping and his eyes flashing.

Carlisle pulled a suddenly fearful Esme behind him and lowered his head in a submissive pose. "I apologize."

He nodded brusquely, and then brushed past them to enter the house. He vaguely noted that the rest of the family was suspiciously absent as he climbed the stairs.

Bypassing the room he had shared with Alice, an unconscious sneer curling his lips, he headed for the second set of stairs and the spare room that resided on the third floor next to his study. They were the only two rooms, other than a full bath, that were on that level.

Upon entering, he slipped off his tattered jeans, the only article of clothing he wore, and headed directly towards the shower. Setting the temperature as hot as it would go, though it wouldn't matter much to his chilled skin anyways, he stepped under the spray. He must have stayed in there for hours, because by the time he got out, his teeth clenching as he contemplated exactly how he was going to get his clothes and things from Alice's room, he found his clothing, personal items and the few treasured belonging's he had carefully placed on the bed. He scented the air as he stalked closer. Esme.

After putting his things away and slipping into a loose pair of sleeping pants, he gave into the very human urge to crawl under the bed covers. Pulling them over his head, he desperately wished for sleep, but at the same time was happy he couldn't. He knew sleeping would eventually lead to dreaming.

He laid there for days. Ignoring when the rest of the family finally came home, doing best to keep their return as silent as possible. Ignoring the timid knocks on the doorways by a worried Esme and a hesitant Rose (but not Alice, never Alice). Ignoring the falsely cheerful game invites from Emmett, and the soft, _'do you want to talk'_ queries from Edward. Ignoring the blood packets left outside his door by a concerned Carlisle. Ignoring them all until they eventually got the point and started leaving him alone.

It took him weeks before he finally went hunting again, the pangs in his stomach so strong that he almost lost his balance when he chose to jump from his window in an effort to bypass the family. In his starvation, he had been so messy when he fed, that it brought back memories of his newborn days. Shame flooded his body as he buried the shredded remains of a bear and battled the confusing urge to say a prayer for it.

After a year, he had practically become a ghost to the family, who found themselves brushing off the _'Jasper's away at college'_ excuse to explain his absence to a few curious townsfolk. He was there, but he wasn't and they had learned to accept that, tentatively adopting a 'life goes on' mentality.

It took nine more months before Jasper fooled himself into believing he was slowly coming to terms with it, confusing the numbness that had seeped into his body as some sort of acceptance. Realizing that with... _her... _gone, the Cullen's were the only family he had left. That, a rough swallow, Alice was all he had left. Making the conscious decision to start slowly fixing things, despite the fact that half of him was raging at the thought, the half he thought he had locked up after the Southern Wars had ended, he proceeded to do what he did best, burying those feelings deep down and pretending they weren't there.

_That's how you lost her, _a scornful voice mocked. He ignored it.

His first words to his family in almost two years were, "Where is Alice?"

Stunned silence. And was that... pity?

"She's not here, dear," Esme finally spoke up.

"Where is she?"

More awkward shuffling.

"Paris," Rosalie supplied. Definitely pity he was feeling from her. He shrugged it off, certain it was for his past situation.

_Which you are getting over, _he told himself. His shoulders slumped. _Never. Never getting over,_ the same scornful voice from earlier whispered.

"When will she be back?"

It was clear that after so long of hearing nothing from him, the family was quickly growing confused, and concerned with this conversation.

Carlisle cleared his throat. "Jasper, son, you better sit down."

Jasper crossed his arms. "I've been laying in bed for the last..." He paused when he realized he had no idea what day it was, or even what year. "What's the date today?"

"It's October 1," Carlisle replied.

"2001," Emmett added, still seeing the slightly questioning look on Jasper's face.

Jasper was stunned. Weeks, definitely, months, possibly, but he hadn't even considered that a little more than a year and a half had gone by. So much could have changed in that time, and judging by the looks the family was still giving him, it had.

He looked back towards Carlisle, gesturing him to continue with the train of thought he had begun earlier.

"I don't know how to the best way to tell you this, Jasper," a pause, "you have to understand that these things have no control. That even we were extremely shocked and-"

"Hell!" Rosalie burst in, cutting off a startled Carlisle. "I'm sorry Carlisle, but this is getting us nowhere. Alice has met someone." Her head lowered as she visibly hesitated and Emmett reached over to entwine his hand with hers for support. Sympathetic amber eyes, an emotion rare enough from her to make Jasper step back slightly, locked on to his own. "She's met her true mate."

**-oo-**

Alice returned the day after he made the disastrous phone call to Peter, tugging a slightly timid, stylishly dressed man behind her. Wary gold eyes scanned them, offering a shy smile as he was warmly welcomed by everyone. Well, almost everyone.

Jasper stood off to the side, partly because he really didn't feel like part of the family anymore and partly because he had no interest in meeting Alice's new mate. _Bernard, seriously?_

He eyed _Bernie_ from the top of his perfectly coiffed light-brown hair, down to the sweater vest and chinos and eventually to the loafers on his feet. His height, only slightly taller than Alice, who was already very short herself, added together with his thin frame and effeminate features, had the soldier inside him sneering.

_He could practically be her twin. No wonder she chose him. Now she has someone to share her clothes and makeup with. _

He watched as Alice broke away from her mate to stand before him. "Hi, Jas," she greeted softly, her eyes downcast. "I was hoping we could talk. Maybe somewhere private?"

Now that she was near, Jasper quickly found himself cycling through a wide variety of emotions. He flicked a brief look up at her tense mate in the background, then back down at her and felt the onset of rage and disgust boiling beneath the surface. Schooling his features into a calm mask, he nodded his head. "Yes, Alice, I believe we do need to talk."

* * *

_***End part one***_


	3. Passing Years: The Aftermath Part 2

**Disclaimer: ****All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.**

_******A/N: Okay, so this is actually Part 2 of Part 2. My second chapter was so ridiculously long (especially in comparison to all the other chapters I have written thus far) that it felt like I had to split it up in two.  
**_

******_*WARNING* There is a tad bit of gore mentioned here. Please let me know if you feel it requires a ratings change. (Otherwise it will remain a T throughout... sorry for everyone that is hoping for a love scene. But if the thought of what yours would eventually turn out to be, should you try one, makes you cringe... well, it's probably just best to stay away.)_  
**

* * *

When he realized he had been subconsciously leading Alice toward _that glen, _he abruptly veered off course and ended up in the small clearing where he had mutilated that bear a year earlier. He stopped so suddenly, Alice ended up running into his back.

He whirled around with a sneer. "What? Didn't see that coming?"

Alice shrank back from the obvious hostility in his voice. "No," she admitted reluctantly. "My visions involving you have become a bit... wonky."

"I see," Jasper hummed. "And have they always been in regards to me?

"No," she hurriedly supplied, with an assured smile. She may have been relieved to be able to answer the question truthfully, but she was unaware that she had just backed herself into a corner.

His voice was calm when he asked the next question. "Did you know?"

Her emotions shifted so swiftly that it almost made him dizzy. She was scared now... and guilty as hell. "I don't-"

He cut her off. "Did. You. Know?" He spoke through clenched teeth.

She shook her head rapidly. "No, no, I really thought we were mates." _Lie._

He violently grabbed her arms, a loud squealing sound piercing the air when he dug his fingers in. "STOP LYING TO ME!" he screamed, little spittles of venom spraying from his mouth and splashing her cheeks.

"Okay! Okay!" She admitted, with a sob. "I just didn't want to be alone!"

Briefly stunned by confusion, he released her. "What?"

"I knew we weren't mates the first time we met, but you were so lost and alone and I knew I wouldn't meet my real mate for a long time... I wasn't sure when, the visions weren't clear at that point. And we had a connection didn't we? Yes, yes we did, I felt it. I taught you a better way of life and brought you to the Cullen's... that must mean something, right?" She wasn't paying the slightest bit of attention to him at that point, and instead continued nodding and rambling to herself. "Eventually I fell in love with you and was able to ignore everything for a while, so much I really began to believe you were my mate."

His anger was building again. "Ignore that you used me, you mean?"

"I loved you!" Alice insisted.

"And," he choked up slightly, "Bella?"

"I couldn't see her!" she swore. "Not at first... and when I did, when I saw you were meant to be together...I just... I wasn't ready to give you up yet!"

He was vibrating at that point, and if Alice had been paying attention, she would have noticed the demonic black slowly seeping into his eyes.

"She messed everything up! She was supposed to come later, after I met my mate. She... she... she wasn't supposed to kill herself!" she finished with a shriek.

Jasper roared as his vision went dark.

**-oo-**

_snarling..._

_screaming..._

_tearing..._

_ripping..._

_venom..._

_shouting..._

_hands..._

_pulling..._

**-oo-**

It took all four of the men to pull him off, but the damage was done.

Coming back to himself, Jasper looked over to where a silently sobbing Alice was being cradled by her hysterical mate. No, she wasn't dead. Even in the back of his mind, a part of Jasper wasn't willing to make a mate suffer the agony he had.

But she would never speak again.

The hole he had torn in her throat could be repaired, something her mate was currently trying to do by holding the chunk of ripped flesh a horrified Rosalie had passed him in place over the damage, but the pulverized larynx squished between his fingers and the venom he had spat in the gap where it had once been would guarantee that she would never spew another lie.

The family stood heavily divided, Jasper on one side of the clearing, the rest of the Cullen clan, including a visibly torn Emmett on the other. Alice's mate snarled up from his position on the ground, the enraged look on his face indicating that he was moments away from attacking Jasper.

"Don't even think about it, _Bernie_," he warned, dropping the mangled flesh at his feet and grinding it into the dirt with his boot heel. "No one will lose another mate." He glared viciously at a still sobbing Alice. "As much as I may wish it."

"How could you do this to her?" Rosalie shrieked. "How could you do this to our family? She-"

"She, nothing," Jasper snapped. "She lied to me. She's been lying to me since the day we met. She's been lying to you. She made me... she made Bella..." he trailed off with a wounded snarl.

"And this is how you deal with it?" An enraged Carlisle asked. With his next words he ensured that, while he may not have been a man that got angry very often, when he did, he didn't pull any punches. "No matter what you tell yourself Jasper, _you_ are the one that made the choice that day. _You_ are the one who chose Alice."

Jasper's face collapsed, venom welling in his eyes. _I did... I did... Oh god I did..._

Turning to the others, Carlisle motioned for Emmett to pick up Alice, taking her from a reluctant Bernard's arms and indicated that they all should head back towards the house. Esme hesitated, her eyes flitting fearfully between Jasper and her mate.

"I'll be fine," Carlisle murmured. "Go."

Esme nodded and turned. She paused and turned back around. "Jasper, I..." she trailed off as she searched for the right words. Finding none, she could only manage a single heartbroken smile before finally leaving.

Carlisle's eyes trailed her until she was out of sight. "It's probably for the best if you don't return home," he spoke softly, meeting Jasper's gaze with a heartbroken look similar to Esme's.

Jasper gave a stiff nod.

"I can set you up with some money, if you need it."

"I have my own. You know that," Jasper replied tightly.

"Yes... well, when you have a place set up, call me and I can have your clothes and things sent to-"

"Keep them."

"Jasper surely-"

"No, Carlisle, I think everything that needs to be said has been said," Jasper interjected, turning away when Carlisle nodded.

"I don't regret what I did to Alice," he tossed over his shoulder, as he was walking away.

"Maybe one day you'll come looking for forgiveness," Carlisle replied.

Jasper stilled. "No, Carlisle, I won't. That's reserved only for... Bella, but I'll never get that chance, will I?"

Silence was Jasper's only answer. He swiftly picked up the pace; cutting the connections to the family he had been with for over 50 years with each step he took.

**-oo-**

Peter stared at Jasper when he finished. Why did it seem the most unbelievable (at first) stories he ever heard took place while he was sitting on a couch?

"Did you ever?" He asked, strangely curious.

"Ask for forgiveness, you mean?"

Peter nodded.

"No. It would have been a lie if I had. Other then speaking with Carlisle briefly after he sent me the papers granting my divorce, I haven't seen any of the Cullen's since that day."

Silence reigned again as Peter rolled the story over in his head. There were so many questions he could ask, but he really only wanted the answer to one.

"Why?" Peter demanded, the meaning clear in his cracked voice. _Why had you turned her away?_

"I..I..." Jasper stuttered, scrambling for an answer that wouldn't have him thrown out. "There was something there," he finally admitted. "But I was... afraid of it. I had spent 50 years with the Cullen's, with Alice, desperately trying to find my place with them. So much, that after awhile, I was able to convince myself that they were it for me, that... she was it for me. I wanted so badly to believe it, that I ignored the other part of myself that said differently." Ashamed at his cowardice, and realizing that what he just admitted echoed Alice's words from years ago, he was unable to meet Peter's eyes. "Oh god," he moaned, "I suppose I'm no better then Alice, am I?"

"Why the hell did you try to make it work after then?" he spat.

Jasper's eyes were haunted when they rose to look at him. "I thought they were all I had left."

Eventually, the pity that the story invoked and Jasper's genuine contriteness seemed to be enough for Peter to share Bella's entire story with him. Sadly, the pity disappeared as the story progressed, Peter's tone regressing to the point where he was speaking through clenched teeth by the time he got to Bella's turning and the death of Jasper's... unborn child.

The rest of the story was abruptly cut off, when another mournful wail worked its way up Jasper's throat, his mind snapping.

When Jasper came to himself four days later, he was filthy. The evidence of the decimation of ten acres of forest and five unfortunate campers, stained him from his matted hair to his bare feet.

In the wake of the aftermath, Peter and Charlotte had to move themselves and a practically comatose Jasper to one of their spare homes before they could continue on with the rest of her story... and the part they had played in the end.

"What?" Jasper had hissed.

Peter snapped his eyes up to meet Jasper's rapidly darkening gaze. "No." He ordered harshly, without the slightest hint of fear. "You don't get to do that."

"I don't get to do _that_?" Jasper spat. "You killed my mate!" He finished with a roar.

"No, Jasper," Charlotte whispered, coming up behind Peter and putting her hand on his shoulder for support. "You did."

The fight drained completely from Jasper as Carlisle's words echoed through his head, _'You chose Alice..'_ and he fell silent. Defeated, he spoke only one final word. "Where?" The dead tone to his voice and the similar look in his eyes convinced Peter to reluctantly supply the location of Bella's final resting place.

With a nod from Peter as Jasper was leaving, Charlotte slipped the weathered photograph Bella had given them years earlier into his hand.

**-oo-**

_The photograph..._

Jasper smiled grimly as he looked over his shoulder. Where once was ruins, now sat a perfect replica of the picture he had blown up, the one that was currently hanging on his living room wall. The outside was perfect down to the last detail.

**-oo-**

The minute he had stepped onto the property, it was like a door in his mind had unlocked, and he was hit with a memory so hard that it dropped him to his knees. _Blueprints, wood, stone, tools. sweating, laughing, radiant smiles, love..._ It was disjointed and over in minutes, but he remembered every single detail. Looking over the land, he knew what he had to do.

It had been an interesting effort, getting a hold of the deed to the lands.

Jasper had placed a call to Jenks, a lawyer with penchant for taking on supernatural clients, including Jasper himself. It hadn't been easy to explain what he wanted; since he was sure what he was asking would prove to be impossible.

To be honest, he was skeptical about the whole thing, certain he was only setting himself up for more disappointment. So when he stood in Jenks' office a week and a half later, listening to information so amazingly serendipitous, he had a hard time believing it was even true in the first place.

It turns out that the Whitlock family had been one of the very first settlers of Galveston. As the years passed and their wealth grew, the Whitlock patriarch (and Jasper's grandfather) William laid claim to over 100 acres of land (which included the property that Jasper and Isabella's home would eventually be built on.) When he passed it was stipulated in his will that the land would belong to _'a Whitlock of my blood'_ as long as one was alive to claim it.

Jasper's own father, had inherited the land, a little less than ten years before Jasper's birth (_1844_, Jenks had said when he'd ask. It had been a date Jasper had never been 100% sure of before), when William had died. After John's own death (the exact cause of which he'd learned from Peter) the land had been claimed by John's estranged younger brother Andrew. Many years later it would eventually be passed on to his own heir, Henry, when he died mere days after his sons 18th birthday.

Despite nearing destitution in his later years, Henry had steadfastly held onto that land for the next 50 years, before dying practically penniless in the spring of '42 with no children to carry on his legacy. That should have been the end of it.

With no Whitlock to claim it, the second part of the will would be honored and the land would transfer back to the city of Galveston, which had grown significantly in the last 125 years. And it would have, if not for the 'long-lost' daughter of Henry that suddenly appeared with all the right information and documentation to prove it. A daughter named _Marie Isabella_.

When the world tiptoed its way past the '90's, Marie's 'daughter' _Isabelle _(with the help of another supernaturally inclined lawyer, which Jenks informed him was a casual acquaintance), would step forward to claim it.

_Bella_, he thought at the end of the lengthy history, warmth spreading through him at the knowledge that she had gone through so much trouble to save his family's property. He tuned Jenks out and his brow furrowed. _But she died almost 18 years ago... so.._

"Who owns the property now?" Jasper asked, interrupting whatever Jenks had been saying.

"I was just about to tell you that, if you'd let me finish." Jenks was the only human he knew that didn't hesitate to give him attitude.

He'd asked him once why he didn't feel intimidated by him and had been greatly amused by his answer. _"I'm a lawyer, I don't feel."_

Jasper watched as Jenks reached for a file, running one hand through his salt and pepper hair as he scanned it. "It says here the property belongs to a Pete R. Whitlock."

_Pete R..._ Jasper's eyes widened. _Peter._

He didn't even bother thanking Jenks, slapping down a roll of cash on his desk and flitting out the door. Though judging by the look on the lawyer's face right before he left, it was something he was used to anyways.

**-oo-**

After five straight hours of running, Jasper burst through Peter's door, not even sparing a moment to knock.

"Why didn't you tell me?" He barked at Peter, who was slowly standing from the defensive crouch in front of Charlotte that he had instinctively fallen into.

"Tell you what?" Peter asked, genuinely bewildered.

"The property. Why didn't you tell me you owned the property?"

"You didn't ask."

Jasper scowled. "I'm serious."

"Serious? Fine. Bella told me and Char a little about the place before we came to find you, and after she... died, I looked into it. Found her lawyer who helped me get the deed transferred over to my name." He choked up a little. "I- I told them she was dead and that I was her brother."

Jasper raised an eyebrow. "That easy?"

Peter grimaced. "Actually, no. The town is starting to get suspicious, not to mention mad as hell, that no one seems to be doing anything with the property. I just got a call the other day saying that they were considering contesting the whole thing. And they have the grounds, seeing on how it's all based around a damn 200 year old will."

Jasper would not let that happen. That property and the ring dangling from the chain around his neck were the only two pieces of Bella he had left.

Since Jasper technically was a Whitlock, just not a _living one_, he'd gotten Jenks to tweak the already detailed and very forged documents he had made years ago to make him Peter's older brother. With those in hand, the two set out to argue their case.

The town council had been very reluctant to let the potential lawsuit go at first, having salivated over building on that land since the late 60's. The calm negotiations (on Jasper's part at least, Peter looked like he was close to draining the lot of them) had continued for an hour until he agreed to sell them back the property, at a ridiculously low price, under the stipulation that he could keep the little corner of land the house now sat on and the surrounding 10 acres of forest. They in turn would get the land on the opposite sides, the parts closest to two of their main roads. They were all too eager to agree after that.

Once the new deed was placed in his hand, the supplies to build in his truck, and had he not been so self-loathing, he would have truly believed that fate was on his side for the first time since... that day.

He rebuilt it on his own, going at a human pace. Day after day. Week after week. Month after month. Pausing occasionally to sit in the shade of their tree, his head resting beneath the initials J & B as he surveyed his work with a critical eye.

Peter had shown up once or twice during that year, but Jasper had refused to let him help.

"Repentance," Jasper had claimed as he hammered another tile on the roof.

"Is it working?" Peter asked softly.

The hammer stilled briefly, "No," before starting up again.

When the last tile in the walkway was in place, the flowers in the garden blooming, he set about carving a small, stone monument. Painstakingly and lovingly chiseling each detail until it was complete.

**-oo-**

Jasper dropped the hand that had been tracing the letters for the last hour. It was during these still moments under this tree that a new memory of Bella would slowly unfurl in his mind and another piece of the puzzle would slip into place. Their life together was becoming clearer each passing day.

Today's memory had been their wedding night.

He both looked forward to and cursed these moments, always begging someone, anyone, to tell him why he couldn't have remembered them years earlier, when Bella's beautiful face had looked at him with such heart-breaking hope. Asking why he had forgotten them at all.

Slipping the chain that held Bella's wedding band back over his head, he ended his day the same way he had every other one for the past year, walking over to the stone that sat atop her final resting place. The burnt patch on the ground had been replaced by sod in the shape of a heart, not unlike the one carved into the tree. He looked down and read the words that he had carved into it.

**_ISABELLA MARIE WHITLOCK_**

**_LOVED IN DEATH THE WAY SHE WASN'T IN LIFE_**

He had wept when he'd finished it.

He spent until sunrise the next morning staring at it, seriously contemplating, not for the first time, about asking Peter to kill him. But just like every day before, he knew he never would.

He wasn't worth it. Death was too good for him.


	4. My How She's Grown

**Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.**

**_A/N: Seeing as how it's my birthday today, it put me in a good enough mood to post this chapter a little early. :)  
_**

**_For the record, I know that Galveston University only exists in my mind. While I could have easily gone with Galveston College (which actually does exist, thank you once again Google) I decided to play it safer with a fictional school, since I was already using a real place. Plus the abbreviated name GALU, sounded so much cooler in my head._**

* * *

"Are you sure that's where you want to go?" Renee asked for the fifth time that week. "It's so far away."

Bella grinned at her mother, who had become slightly over-protective ever since her father was killed in the line of duty two years earlier.

"I'm sure, Mom. GALU has an amazing arts program and you know it's been my dream ever since my art teacher told me about it." She stuffed another pair of jeans into her already over-filled bag. "You know, most mothers would be ecstatic that their only child was going to university," she huffed.

"I am," Renee insisted, reaching over to zip up the bag as Bella kneeled on top of it. "It's just, you've barely been out of my sight for the last eighteen years and now you're moving halfway across the country." Her eyes watered. "I'm only going to see you on vacations and... and, this house will be so empty without you. You won't even be here for your birthday!" she yelped at the last minute.

Bella rolled her eyes. "Did you forget the impromptu Bella birthday bash yesterday?" she questioned, throwing another bag on the floor and packing it with her various art supplies. "As for the distance, its a day and a half drive at most," she insisted. "Besides, you'll finally have a chance to get some quality alone time with that jail bait boyfriend of yours." It had taken her mother almost a year and a half before she came to term with her father's death. Despite her reluctance to accept him in the beginning, Bella was actually glad when her mother started dating Phil five months ago. It was great to see her smiling again.

"Hey," Renee yelped, swiping at her. "He's only six years younger than I am!"

Bella dodged out of the way with a laugh. "Whatever you say Mrs. Robinson." A full belly laugh from her mother joined hers. "And," Bella added, "with all that alone time, you'll be so blissed out, you won't even know I'm gone."

Renee stepped closer and drew Bella into her warm embrace, surrounding her daughter with the soothing scent of black tea and mint.

"Sure I will, Pic," she murmured, affectionately using the nickname her father had given her upon the onset of her budding artistic skills.

_"My own little Picasso!"_ He had exclaimed at the time.

_God I miss him,_ Bella thought. She felt tears prickling her eyes as she returned her mother's embrace.

The two women stood silently in the mostly stripped room. Eighteen years of Bella's life was packed away in the bags on her floor and the boxes that lined the hallway entrance.

"You ready, Bella?" A male voice asked from the doorway of Bella's room. Both women had been so lost in the moment, that neither had heard Phil's approach.

"Yep," Bella agreed, detangling herself from her mother's arms and closing the flap on her final bag.

Phil smiled. "Great. Your truck tank is full and I already started loading a few of the boxes on the back." He turned to leave. "Oh," he added as an afterthought, "Haulers-r-Us called about fifteen minutes ago; they said your bed and things arrived yesterday. The super let them in and they managed to get everything set up for you."

The partial scholarship she had gotten, along with the rather large life insurance policy Charlie Swan had set up years before his death, had allowed Bella to find a comfortable and surprisingly affordable apartment about a fifteen minute drive from campus. It had one bedroom and a bath, and the kitchen and living room were separated by a low dividing wall. The best part (other than not having to put up with the awkwardness of a roommate you had no guarantee of getting along with) was the large window dead center in the living room, offering an amazing view of a sparkling river in the distance. It was the perfect place to put her drawing table.

"Thanks, Phil." Bella replied, slinging her bag over her shoulder.

**-oo-**

The three of them working together had the rest of the boxes and bags loaded quickly and within an hour's time. After Bella locked the truck bed cover (definitely her most sensible birthday gift ever, _thanks Phil_), she was once again pulled back into her mother's arms as she blubbered loudly into her neck.

"My baby... my little girl," she kept repeating.

It took another five minutes of soothing and a promise to call her as soon as she got there before she let Bella go.

Phill was next as he offered her an affectionate, yet awkward hug, followed by a gentle 'there, there' like patting on her back. Bella stifled a grin. _What a goof, _she thought. A final round of goodbyes, a honk of the horn, and Bella was off, with a good twenty hours of driving ahead of her and a bag full of energy drinks on her passenger seat,

It took almost ten hours of straight driving before she couldn't ignore the hunger pains anymore. She caught sight of a sign up ahead, promising gas stations, motels and restaurants at the next off ramp, and steered her truck in that direction.

Minutes later, she pulled into a cozy little diner that proclaimed itself: _'Mama's Home Cooking'._ Slipping from the cab of the truck, she stretched hard, her limbs popping, and breathed a sigh of relief. She made her way to the door, grinning slightly when she opened it and the mouth-watering scent of food hit her nose. A pleasantly plump waitress, _Sue_ according to the name tag, flashed her a smile as soon as she entered and lead her past a few scattered patrons towards a booth in the back.

"Get you something to drink, hun?" She asked as she placed a worn menu in front of Bella.

Deciding she was already wired enough thanks to the (_five!_) energy drinks she had already consumed today, she crossed her usual drink of choice, coffee, off the list. Shrugging off her jacket, she asked, "Do you have any lemonade?"

"Sure do. Freshly made every day. And with real lemons, none of that powdered stuff here," Sue boasted proudly.

Bella smiled at her exuberance. "I'll take a glass of that, please."

Sue returned a few moments later, placing a chilled glass beside her menu with a promise to give her a few minutes to decide.

"Give me a holler when you're ready," she instructed with a smile, walking off to greet the family of four that just entered.

Picking up the menu, Bella scanned it, struggling to focus on the words before her. Now, without the welcome distraction of her music around her, which she had cranked specifically for this reason, she felt her mind begin to wander, thinking over what she had said to her mother before she left.

**-oo-**

She told her GALU had been her dream school and she hadn't been lying about that. But she had lied about something.

Her art teacher, Ms. Dempsey, had given her several applications to various prestigious schools and art programs halfway into her last term. GALU, a smaller and subsequently lesser known school, had been crammed in, probably as a last minute addition at the bottom. It hadn't been one of the ones her teacher had recommended (or even mentioned period) in her long winded speech that involved the phrase _'great opportunity for you'_ no less than five times.

While waiting for her mother to get home later that night, (having been given explicit instructions not to look through the pamphlets till she got there), Bella lazily skimmed through them, nothing particular really catching her eye.

Until she finally came to that pamphlet at the bottom.

Her eyes scanned the front of it, zeroing in on the name Galveston University. _Galveston._ Her heart gave a rough jerk.

_Why does that name sound so familiar?_ She wondered.

There was something there, dancing along the edge of her memories, too far away for Bella to reach. She frowned, focusing harder... reaching...it was close... it was..

"Bella?" _Gone_.

Her mother's voice broke her concentration and whatever memory had been forming in her mind had quickly dissipated.

But the feeling that name had invoked remained and later the night, as she slept, she felt herself slipping back into a familiar dream.

It started as it usually did, her clad in an old fashioned dress, standing in an empty field next to a tall oak tree, the sunlight glittering through the thick leaves and warming her face. There was faint shape carved into the tree. The lines of it were disconnected, but you could vaguely make out a rough heart-like shape. In one hand, she held a strange yellow rock, its smooth surface catching the rays of the sun and shining like gold. In the other she held a beautifully lush red primrose (a flower she recognized thanks to its frequent appearance in her grandmother's garden when she had still been alive.) She'd stare at the objects in her hand, as the sun grew brighter and hotter with each passing second. Then three things would happen simultaneously; the rock would crumble to dust and sift between her fingers, the flower would blacken and die and the tree in front of her would burst into flames. She always turned and ran after this happened, waking up in a cold sweat moments later, tears streaking down her face.

But this night was different. This time when she turned, her path was blocked by a large, and very out of place road sign. Mystified, Bella looked up at the towering white letters that read: _**Welcome to Galveston.**_

She jerked awake. But instead of feeling fear, she felt a calm certainty run through her. She may not have known the _what_ or the _why_ of her dream, but she felt certain that it was _where_ she was meant to go. And maybe that would eventually lead to some of the answers to the questions she had been asking herself for years.

So, later that afternoon as her mother was taking a second look through the applications, a confident Bella eagerly slide the GALU pamphlet over to her mother, telling her all the wonderful things her teacher had to say about the school. And, not for one second, did she feel the least bit guilty for lying.

**-oo-**

"You make up your mind yet, hun?"

Bella was startled out of her thoughts when Sue returned to her side, flipping open a small notebook and pulling a pencil from behind her ear.

"Yeah, can I get the cheeseburger with home fries?"

Her pencil scratched across the paper. "Fried or on the grill?"

"Grill."

More scratching. "Onions with that?"

Bella nodded.

"Alrighty. Your order'll be up in about fifteen."

"Thanks."

Watching Sue push past the swinging door into the kitchen, Bella found herself wondering if she'd made the right decision by not telling her mother any of this. She had considered telling her about the dreams once, right before her father had died, but they had strangely stopped after that, and she hadn't found it unnecessary. That night, the one that had encouraged her enrollment in GALU, had been been the first dream she'd had in years.

But then again, how would she explain that she had been dreaming, of a place apparently, since she was a little girl? Or even better, how the content of the dream itself seemed to be stuck on the repeat button. Content, some people could argue as being very unsettling, maybe even foreboding. It certainly wouldn't speak too favorably of her sense if she had _still_ chosen to come to a place after all of that.

_Yep_, Bella decided. _Definitely won't be explaining the thought process behind that decision. Not when I don't quite understand it myself.  
_

Besides, it would probably prove to be as difficult to explain as what had occurred on her thirteenth birthday.

**-oo-**

She had been all about horses that year. Filling up a notebook with pages and pages of drawings of the creature she considered 'majestic.' So as a surprise, her father had taken her to a ranch that offered horse-back riding packages to families. She had been so excited when they passed under the arch that proudly welcomed people to 'Silver Range Ranch', jumping out of the car seconds after it had rolled to a stop and rushing over to the corral where several horses were grazing.

So entranced, Bella offered only a brief glance at the youngish man who was currently exchanging a hand shake with her father, before turning back to the horses.

"Hey there, little miss," a thick Texas twang greeted from behind her. "I hear it's your birthday."

Bella turned around slowly. She took in the half-cocked cowboy hat atop longish, messy blond hair, blue eyes that sparkled with genuine joy and the wide grin that stretched a tan and roughly handsome face before bursting into hysterical tears.

The man made gentle shushing sounds as he moved closer and bent to her level. "Hey, it's alright there, little darlin'..."

He was startled into silence when Bella slapped her hands over her ears, her sobs increasing in intensity as she roughly pushed past him, almost knocking the poor man off his feet, and made a mad dash back to the car.

It had taken a half-hour of softly spoken goading, before her slightly embarrassed parents finally agreed to her, still a tinge hysterical, pleas to leave. Despite the best efforts of her mother to coax her into conversation, she was silent the whole way home.

Though she had long outgrown the ritual, she didn't protest when her father tucked her into bed later that night after she finally apologized for ruining the surprise he had planned. He had assured it was alright, before a serious look settled on his features and he asked her what exactly had happened.

Looking him square in the eye, Bella admitted, "I don't know." And it was left at that.

She would never draw another horse again.

**-oo-**

Bella pushed her plate away, certain that that had been the best cheeseburger she'd ever eaten. She made sure to tell Sue that when she returned to the table to clear the dishes.

"Thank you, hun. I'll be sure to pass the compliments onto Earl, our cook. Can I get you dessert? I make a pretty mean apple pie."

Bella groaned. "Tempting.. but no thanks, I don't think I could eat another bite."

Bella watched as Sue jotted down a total and slid the bill across to her. "You just leave the money on the table, hun. And have a safe drive."

With the mention of driving, Bella realized how tired she was. It seemed those energy drinks had finally worn off and she was crashing hard. "Is there a motel around here?"

Stuffing her notebook back into the front pocket of her apron, Sue nodded. "Yep, just follow the road you're on right now for about ten minutes and hang a left at the first turn. It's called Everdeen's Inn, you can't miss it." She leaned closer and lowered her voice to a whisper. "You'll pass a place called the Bedby Motel on the way there, but I recommend you don't stay there. Us locals call it the 'BedBug' Motel."

Bella grimaced. "Thanks for the tip."

Throwing some money down, Bella slipped into her jacket, slipped her wallet back into her pocket and offered a cheery goodbye wave to Sue.

"Be sure to come back for breakfast!" Sue called.

Bella grinned. If the breakfast was as good as the burger, she'd definitely be back in the morning.

**-oo-**

A half-hour later, Bella had her phone up to her ear as she turned the deadbolt on her door.

"Yes mom, I'm locking the door right now." A pause. "Yes, tell Phil the truck bed cover is locked as well. I checked twice." She looked around the small, but tidy room. "Yes, it's very clean." She grinned. "The name? I think it said Bate's Motel." She was forced to hold the phone slightly away from her ear as she unzipped the bag with her other hand and dug around for her pajamas. "Mom? Mom! You're right, I'm sorry, that wasn't very funny."

_Thank god she can't see me smiling. I'm a terrible daughter._

Rolling her eyes, Bella walked to the small table in the corner of the room. Wrapping her hand around the wooden chair that was pushed underneath it, she began dragging it towards the door.

"Yes mother, I'm wedging the chair under the doorknob as we speak," she promised, proceeding to do just that. "I love you too, mom. Say goodnight to Phil for me... yes, I'll call you before I leave, alright? Bye."

_I feel like I've just been put through trial,_ Bella thought as she ended the call. Her mother was great, don't get her wrong, but... damn.

After brushing her teeth, donning the shorts and tee that made up her pajamas and slipping beneath the crisp, clean sheets (she hadn't been lying to her mother, this room was surprisingly very clean. She silently thanked Sue again for the suggestion) Bella allowed her tired body to sink into the mattress with a sigh of bliss. She wondered if she would dream tonight.

The dreams had disappeared again after she had made the decision to apply to GALU that day. She had thought it was just as strange as the last time they had stopped.

_I'm too tired to think about this now. Maybe I'll give it more thought in the- _She drifted off mid thought.

She didn't dream. Instead, she unconsciously reached.

**-oo-**

Hours away, a blond-haired vamp kneeled in front of a stone monument frowned at the strange tugging sensation in his gut. Brushing it off as nothing more than a new addition to his misery, he went back to his mourning.

**-oo-**

_Ignored again,_ a deeply buried part of her soul wept to itself.

Come morning, Bella would find herself perplexed at the suspiciously soaked pillow.

* * *

**A/N: Curious about the significance of the dream? Type opaque yellow rock into Google (this is, of course, under the assumption that you're getting the same search results that I do) and maybe you'll get a hint ;) Feel free to look up the meaning of Primroses while you're doing it. And if you don't feel like doing that, please don't hesitate to ask in a review... it might make me feel generous enough to tell you (but it won't be half as fun as discovering it on your own!)**


	5. Puzzle Pieces

**Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.**

**_A/N: I'm asking you to give me a little leeway with the way I represent college (more specifically college courses) in this chapter as they may be incorrect. But this is the way it works at the college I go to... you know, the one that exist solely in my mind..._  
**

* * *

Bella sat alone on a bench in the GALU quad, her head cradled in one hand and a small frown on her lips as her eyes flitted between the group of students spread out on the lawn laughing about something and the four boys on the opposite side tossing a football between them.

She had to admit she was a little disappointed. Not in the courses themselves, they were incredibly enjoyable for the most part, and her Intro to Arts teacher was hysterically eccentric. The very first class he had dropped trou, exclaiming, _"A true artist cannot be constricted,"_ as he stood before them in his (admittedly awesome) 'The Scream' boxers (and yes, the screaming face _was_ directly over his crotch area.) Why he found it necessary to strip to his skivvies to get that point across, she'll never know, but it would definitely be a day she'd never forget.

No, it wasn't that at all. It was the social aspect of college that she was disappointed in. She thought this was going to be a time to meet new people and make new friends, but she hadn't been too successful on either part. She just wasn't sure if the blame lay with her or with her peers.

She wasn't antisocial by any means, but she had always found it difficult to make friends. As a quiet and thoughtful child who could easily get lost in a book or her artwork, many had thought her strange and it was a stigma that carried on through her entire life. No one wants to hang out with the weird girl. Sure she'd eventually had a few people she called friends, but she found out how little that word meant when they lost touch with her only weeks after graduation.

Even in a new town, with new faces, it already looked like history was doomed to repeat itself.

She wondered if she was putting a vibe.

She sat up with a sigh and admitted to herself that she already knew the answer to that.

She was _definitely_ putting out a vibe... and it wasn't a very good one either.

When you had a tendency to flinch back slightly whenever someone with a distinctly southern accent (and being that she was in a city in Texas, it was pretty much a gimmie) attempted a conversation with you it was probably a good guarantee that there wouldn't be a second one. She still wasn't sure about this... reluctance towards twangs, only that it was proving to be pretty much a social killer.

She had gotten better at not reacting after awhile (usually biting down hard on her tongue or her cheek) but it was a method that would eventually work against her. In her last attempt at carrying on a conversation (with sweetly shy boy that Bella sensed was interested in her) she had ended up biting clean through her lip. Blood, it turns out, especially when it's running down your chin, is just as much a conversation ender as flinching is. Maybe even a better one.

Seeing how this was a smallish campus, where gossip traveled quickly; it was clear she had already been labelled as a... well, she didn't know what exactly, but she was sure it wasn't very nice. Almost a month here already and it didn't seem as if anybody was going out of their way to engage her. There had really been no attempts, aside from the occasional mandatory exchanges during discussions and group projects and even then she could sense a bit of reluctance on their parts.

Out of the corner of her eye Bella noticed one of the girls from the group on the lawn exchanging a low murmured conversation with the girl beside her, before tossing a smirk in her direction. Refusing to react (fighting hard with the glare that she wanted to level at her) Bella checked her watch and let out a small sigh at the fact that her next class was starting in fifteen minutes. Casually standing, she slung her bag over her shoulder and briefly met the smirky girl's eyes with the most unaffected, blasé look she could muster. A look she hope hid the mild hurt she felt and instead conveyed the '_I don't give a rat's ass'_ attitude she had veiled herself in since arriving here.

Turning to leave, a bray of laughter sounded out from behind her.

Pausing slightly, she firmly decided that she really wasn't missing out on much. Who wanted to be friends with such judgmental people anyways?

**-oo-**

Bella stopped typing with a frown.

She was now two months into her first semester and she had officially given up on the attempt to make friends. Instead, she had made up for the lack of social relationships by throwing herself into her school work and it had shown significantly in her grades. But her newest assignment for her Psych 101 class was proving to be difficult.

Her mother had laughed heartily when Bella had told her she was interested in taking it.

_"Thanksgiving dinner with your crazy relatives when you were a kid encourage that?"_

She had laughed with her mother and replied _"Probably,"_ while secretly admitting that it was more for herself. She was hoping it would her understand why she felt some of the things she did. Why she felt so out of place... so lost sometimes. She figured getting her hands on a psych text book would be like getting the therapy without actually having to go to a therapist.

The class turned out to be surprisingly dull and uninformative.

Unfortunately the teacher seemed to be fresh out of college himself and desperately wanted to appear 'cool' to his students, focusing mainly on topics he thought would appeal to the teenage mindset. Finding some way to dedicate entire discussions to music, movies or even video games and how they 'affected the psyche.' Not exactly what she had been hoping for.

Then of course there was last week's discussion about sex and sexual desires.

She hadn't been able to concentrate at all during those classes. Not with the girl two rows behind her giggling every time the word _sex_ was mentioned, or the guy in the row across from her who kept leering in her direction. Thank god the seats weren't assigned.

By next class, she had moved to an empty row in the back, chuckling to herself at the thought that the only person Mr. Perv had to leer at now was the overweight guy that had been two seats down on the other side of Bella.

She spent that entire week wishing she had dropped the class when she had the chance.

That opinion changed with the new topic her teacher had introduced a few days ago.

He had entered the class room, uncapped his marker and wrote one word on the board.

**DREAMS**

Bella had perked up in her seat, leaning forward as he launched into his introduction. (What Bella sometimes likened to a grandiose opening statement to a jury of his peers.)

_'Dreams are our subconscious desires. They are wants, needs, fears and sometimes even memories we think we've forgotten. In order to understand them, to understand yourself, you must first understand where they come from.'_

And that was exactly the question the teacher posed when he assigned this paper. _Where do dreams come from?_ Bella found it amusing that a group of teenagers fresh out of high school were being asked to explain something that still baffled scientists on occasion.

All Bella knew was that after four straight classes of dream talk, it was getting harder and harder to ignore the questions she had about her own.

She minimized the assignment she was working on and opened a blank page, deciding it was high time she'd given more thought to these dreams. Despite promising herself she would in her motel room that night, she had quickly latched onto the excuse of 'adjusting to college life' to keep pushing any attempts away.

She thinks she may have been approaching the whole thing wrong that night anyways. A little too focused on why her dreams had stopped instead of trying to decipher what was happening in them. As her fingers flew over the keyboard, typing up the details of the dream (using bullet points to separate each object and event) and how they had changed over the years, she came to the startling realization that it appeared that moments in her own life had shaped them.

She remembered when they first began, a little later in her childhood, when she was roughly eight or nine years old. It was simple then, just her in an old fashioned dress standing in a completely empty field. Vague and uneventful.

The tree with the faint heart carving came next.

The typing paused as she racked her brain, clamping down quickly on the event (her mother hadn't told her she had a scary good memory for nothing) that preceded it. She had that creepy kid Jason Weaver in the fifth grade to thank for that addition. Thinking he'd be able to grab Bella's attention by carving their initials into the tree in the middle of the playground (all he had gotten was detention.)

It shifted again after her thirteenth birthday, when she had reacted badly to that ranch hand. The night, she'd been holding the rock and primrose in her hand.

The destruction of said objects came almost three years later, after she had witnessed the house four doors down almost burn to the ground.

Her father, who had been police chief at the time, had heard the sirens and had rushed out of the house. A curious Bella had followed after him ignoring her mother's protest, not even bothering to grab a jacket, despite the cool night air.

The sight of the flames had unexplainable tears running down her cheeks. She had shuffled closer, feeling the heat on her face as she grew nearer... and nearer... it was so hot... almost comforting...

Her progression was stopped by a fireman snatching her off the lawn yelling, "Jesus kid, what the hell are you thinking? Do you want to get burnt?" before passing her to a practically hysterical Renee.

She had been marched home after that and ordered into the shower, to wash off the 'smoky smell.' And later in bed, when her eyes had closed the rock had crumbled, the flower died, and the tree had burst into flames as bright as the ones she had seen that night.

The dreams had started to scare her a little after that and a few weeks before his death, she had contemplated telling her dad or her mom about them.

When they had eventually stopped, she had assumed at the time that it was because of the grief she felt over her father's death and the fact that she couldn't sleep properly for months after it happened.

But maybe it was something else; maybe it was the threat of her telling that had stopped them. But that didn't make sense, why would a dream feel threatened?

And it didn't explain why they stopped again after she made the decision to come to GALU? (but not before adding the road sign that had encouraged her, of course.) After all, she had no intentions of telling her mother about any of that.

Could it be that they stopped because she just simply hadn't come across any more 'triggers'? And if that's truly what they were, were these really memories?

_That is not possible,_ Bella thought hesitantly.

Her cell phone rang, jerking her attention from the screen. She glanced down at it, **MOM**, and pressed the answer button.

"Hey mom," she greeted, placing her hand on the mouse and clicking on the red 'X' button at the top of her page.

**DO YOU WANT TO SAVE THE CHANGES?** A pop up prompted.

"What am I doing?"

Her hand hesitated briefly, wavering between the yes and no options.

"Nothing, mom. I'm not doing anything."

She clicked no.

**-oo-**

Bella crossed campus heading towards the library. Her Art class had just gotten out and with another hour before her next class, she decided to put some final touches on her Psych paper. She had managed to finish most of it after the conversation with her mother, which thankfully pushed away the questions about her own dreams that were niggling at the back her mind. Again.

She entered the doors, taking a moment to relish the slightly musty scent of books that tickled her nose, and headed towards her usual spot. Passing by the desk, she gave a friendly wave to Linda, the head librarian, jerking to a stop when something around her neck caught Bella's eye.

Almost in a daze, she approached the desk, her eyes never leaving the shiny object dangling from the golden chain.

"Hello again, Bella." Linda greeted with a friendly smile. "Did you need something, dear?"

"Your necklace.." Probably not the most eloquent way to start off a conversation.

"This thing?" Linda asked, reaching up a hand to lightly caress it. "I know, most people think it's silly to wear a rock, when you could be wearing a diamond instead. But when your husband's a geologist..." She trailed off with a fond smile.

"A rock? Does it... does it come in different colors?"

"Oh yes," Linda nodded enthusiastically. "Blue, green, purple, orange, even yellow. Virtually any color you can think of."

"What kind is it?"

The grin on Linda's face grew. "Despite being married to a man who made rocks his life, I made books mine, so I probably only know the name of, maybe, four different kinds. This happens to be one of them. It's called Jasper."

Her stomach dropped and Bella paled.

The smile faded from Linda's face. "Are you alright, dear?"

"I- I'm fine. I've been feeling a little under the weather all day," she fibbed.

"Ah yes, I heard there's a cold going around campus. Try not to strain yourself."

Bella nodded jerkily before quickly excusing herself. She walked to the nearest vacant table her thoughts and stomach churning madly. Why had that name invoked such a reaction in her?

Taking her laptop out of her bag, she quickly booted it up and brought up a web browser, typing 'Jasper' and 'Rock' into the search engine. A plethora of pictures popped up and she immediately clicked on the third image. A shiny, smooth, gold-colored rock filled her screen.

_That's it. That's what I'm holding in my dream._

She closed the picture and started a new search, simply typing in 'Jasper' this time.

Scanning the results, she wondered if she'd made the right choice coming to Galveston. Maybe her dream was trying to tell her she should have gone to, she looked at the screen again, Alberta.

_Canada? Really?_

She continued scrolling through the pages, scrunching her face in confusion at each new suggestion.

_Jasper's Purrfect Pet Emporium? So what, does that mean I'm supposed to drop out of school to work in a damn pet store?_

She sat back with a sigh. Now she was really stretching for answers. Maybe she had the right idea last night, by just trying to ignore it. After all, it had worked for 19 years.

_Okay, Bella, let's approach this rationally. Maybe Jasper is not referring to a place, but a person instead._

A twinge.

She frowned at the peculiar feeling; similar to the one she had felt when Linda had first mentioned the name.

_But I don't know any Jasper's... do I?_

Her brow furrowed as her mind cycled through the names of the people she had went to school with, the few she had met outside of school, and the ones she had met here.

_Jason, James, Jessie, I even remember a Jedediah, but no Jasper._

Her head was starting to throb. Maybe she was getting that cold that was going around.

"Hey!" Bella jerked her head up to see Amber, a girl from her English Lit class and currently her partner for a project in said class, standing beside her.

"Hey," she greeted in return.

"Listen, I know we were supposed to meet up her later tonight to work on our project, but something sort of came up. This absolutely awesome band is playing at the bar a few streets over and it's for one night only. I just have to see them."

Half expecting to be blown off anyways, it was Friday night after all (and seeing as how she had completed a good chunk of the project herself anyways) Bella shrugged.

"Yeah, it's okay."

A large smile broke out over Amber's face. "Great, thanks!" She turned to leave, before turning back with a questioning look. "Hey, do you maybe want to come? It'll be a lot of fun."

Bella eyed Amber, surprised. Sure, they seemed to get along alright when working on the project, but she didn't really think they had become friends or anything.

_What to do?_

She dropped her gaze back to her laptop. _Stay here and try to figure this out even though it's giving me a headache? Or go to a bar with a girl I barely know and can't even decide if I like?_

She closed her browser.

"Sure. Sounds great."

* * *

**_A/N2: What can I say? Bella finds Egypt quite nice this time of year. And the moment you've all been waiting for... it's so close you can almost taste it. Please refrain from licking your screens though..._**


	6. (Un)Familiar Faces

******Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.**

******_A/N: I DO NOT have almost a hundred reviews for this story.. I... I... *bursts into hysterically happy tears*_  
**

******_And just for that, here's what you've all been waiting for... Who WILL she meet? Drumroll please...  
_**

* * *

"This is Ella."

Bella should have known after that less than stellar introduction that her night would only be downhill from there. She wishes now that she'd chosen the headache.

It really should have been clear the minute she'd met Amber outside of the bar, who hadn't been hard to spot in her bright red, spandex dress, that she was in over her head. She had hesitated before getting out of her truck, glancing down at her faded jeans, worn green converse and the tight black leather jacket she wore over a dark blue, long-sleeved shirt. She had thought it was appropriate bar wear when she'd put it on earlier, but when she looked at a wildly waving Amber, she wondered if she was under dressed.

"Bella." She corrected lightly, flashing Amber a strained smile.

Apparently Amber didn't appreciate being corrected, narrowing her eyes slightly before turning to her friends with an overly large smile.

"Like I said, this is _Bella_. We're in the same English Lit class."

"Isn't that the class you said you hated?" A red-haired girl piped up from her corner of the booth.

"Ugg... Yes, that class is _so_ boring. Don't you agree Bella?"

Actually she enjoyed that class.

"Uh.."

Thankfully a man, clearly older than the rest of the group (but still pathetically trying to rock the 'I'm still a teenager' look) stood and offered to get the rest of them drinks.

He turned to her expectantly, giving her an appreciative once over. "And you?"

"Umm.. I'll just get a coke."

Judging by the look he shot her (the one being mirrored by everyone else at the table) that was another strike against her.

_Perfect._

**-oo-**

An hour later, Bella sat in the vacated booth watching the red-head, who'd eventually introduced herself as Dina, gyrating hard enough on the dance floor, that Bella was seriously worried she was going to dislocate her hip. Amber stood off in the corner making out with the older guy that had plied her (and the other three) with alcoholic drinks all evening. Otherwise known as: _'Matt. He dropped out of college. Isn't that so bad ass?!' _ She had lost sight of the other couple about fifteen minutes ago, but was pretty sure the words 'back room' might have been mentioned at some point.

She frowned down at her drink wondering why the hell she was still here. She wasn't so desperate for company that she'd put up with... whatever the hell tonight had been.

After the introductions were made, and Bella became even more self-conscious at what she was wearing considering Dina and the other girl Becky were practically mirror images of Amber, she had pretty much become little more than table dressing. She had absolutely nothing in common with any of the people at the table and had officially been excluded from the conversation after the answers to the few questions she was asked apparently weren't 'cool' enough.

_Why yes, I do prefer classic rock over the latest teeny-bopper, auto-tuned automaton. _

The most attention she got was from 'Mr. College Drop-out' who kept trying to engage her in a round of footsies. Yeah, it stopped after she kicked him. Hard. In fact when the group had deemed it time to 'get their groove on' minutes later, she's pretty sure she saw him limp to the dance floor.

"Can I buy you a drink?"

Bella turned at the sound of the suave voice, her eyes flicking from the deep v neck tee that stretched over some impressive abdominals to the overly gelled and perfectly styled hair. Most girls would find him attractive, she supposed. Judging by the smirk on his lips, he was definitely the type who knew how attractive he was and didn't hesitate to use those good looks to talk more than his fair share of girls out of their panties. Unfortunately for him, Bella wasn't the least bit interested.

"Got one," she replied, tipping the still half full glass in his direction.

He eyed the, obviously non-alcoholic, beverage in her hand and smirked. "Perhaps something with a little more kick?"

"Minor."

He leaned closer (_god, did he bathe in cologne?_) "I won't tell if you don't," he promised with a sleazy wink.

_Okay. Time to call it a night._

She stood (inciting a grin from him) and grabbed her jacket from the corner where she had shoved it earlier. "Yeah, no thanks," she replied, slipping it over her shoulders.

Mr. Heartthrob stepped back. "What's your problem?"

He sounded so genuinely confused and insulted, that Bella felt a little bad for her brusqueness.

"Look, it's not you.. I'm just-"

He cut her off with a scoff. "Whatever, bitch. You're not worth my time anyways."

_A perfect end, to a perfect night._

Heading to the door, she didn't even spare a glance over her shoulder to see if anyone had noticed her exit. She doubted she'd be missed.

Once in her truck, she realized she didn't really want to go home to her empty apartment just yet. All that waited for her there was the nightly 'dish' (she still cringed when her mother called it that) with her mother. Where she'd feel obligated to lie to appease the fact that her mother was _'so happy that you're finally making some friends, Bella.'_

She noted that the night was balmy, cooled only slight with a gentle breeze and decided it was the perfect night to take a drive.

She drove aimlessly, mainly keeping close to familiar territory, but content in the knowledge that, should she start to drift, the sturdy GPS attracted to her dash would be able to guide her home. (Again, thanks for that gift went to Phil.)

Once outside what was considered the 'main hub of Galveston' (and the area Bella was most familiar with) she found herself idling at a fork in the road. She knew what lie straight ahead, a rather posh housing development that Bella had given Amber a drive home to once (pretty much guaranteed _that_ wasn't going to happen again) and to the left and down a ways was a great little park that Bella liked to sit and draw occasionally, but the right...

The land immediately beside the road, looked like it was in the final stages of being a... she squinted at the sign **'The future site of Galveston Courtyard. Opening in Early Spring. Spots still open. For information call...' **she couldn't make out the rest, but behind that she could see woods in the distance.

Shrugging her shoulders, Bella flipped the turn signal.

_They say college is supposed to be an adventure._

She turned right onto Williams Road.

**-oo-**

"Dammitt," she snapped, hitting her hands on the steering wheel. "Of course it would decide to stall in the middle of nowhere." Up until that point, she'd been enjoying the drive, the cool night air blowing in her window and the soft hum of her radio in the background. It was strange, but she almost felt like she was getting... closer to something for each minute she was on the road. There had been the faintest buzz of excitement tickling at the outer edges of her mind that kept her driving, even as she continued getting further away from familiar territory.

She was definitely regretting that now.

Looking up she almost started at the sight of a house mere meters away from where she had pulled over to the side of the road. So focused on cursing at her predicament, she hadn't even noticed it. Strange.

It was a quaint little place, she give it that, but considering that it was the first house she'd seen on this road it was a bit unsettling that it was out in the middle of nowhere. It was..

_Home._

Bella's brow furrowed. _What? No, homey. That's what I meant, homey._

A little weirded out by her thoughts, and the itchy feeling that was prickling at her skin, Bella alternated glances from the dash to the pleasant cabin-like structure that was lit up invitingly. Fighting the almost desperate urge to take off towards it in a swift run. Something was in there. Something she needed.

_No, Bella,_ she told herself sternly. _That is exactly how horror movies start._

Her knuckles turned white as they clenched hard around the wheel. The urge didn't appreciate being ignored and had now began screaming at her, the new tugging sensation in her gut growing so strong she felt bile creeping up her throat.

Something wasn't right, something was...

_Tap. Tap. Tap._

The sensations calmed and her body stilled.

"Are you alright, Miss?"

Wide eyed, Bella turned to the window. For a brief moment she thought it was a reflection she was seeing, because the look on the man's handsome face mirrored her own.

"I..." he started hoarsely, "you... do you need help?"

Bella cocked her head. She could hear the pleasant drawl in his words, but why wasn't she reacting like she normally did? Instead, she felt like she was having some sort of weird 'Goldilocks' moment. Just right.

She needed to get out of the truck.

Motioning him back, she opened the door and stepped from the cab.

It seemed like the moment was perfectly timed. As soon as she slammed the door behind her, the clouds that had covered the moon parted and cast a silvery light down on their exact spot.

This man glowed.

He was a foot taller than her, with wavy blond hair that was just past his ears and framed a pale, but _extremely_ attractive face. Plump, dusty rose lips were quirked up slightly at the corner and eyes the color of tarnished gold glistened at her from beneath dark brows and thick, black lashes.

He appeared to be dressed in black, or some other dark color, from head to toe. A tight black thermal stretched tightly over his broad chest (where there was a peculiar round-shaped lump just above his breast bone), faded jeans that managed to be both snug _and_ loose and what looked like square toed motorcycle boots, or maybe even cowboy boots on his feet. Trailing her eyes back up she frowned when she realized he seemed to be holding his breath almost as if he was waiting for her to... recognize him or something.

Now that she thought about it, he did look kind of familiar.

It was funny, but he reminded her a little of that ranch hand that had incited tears on her thirteenth birthday. Obviously this couldn't be him, he'd be in his thirties, at least, by now and this guy didn't look a day over twenty.

"Do I know you?"

The crestfallen look on his face sent a painful twinge to her heart. He stared beseechingly at her and not liking the feeling those endless golden eyes incited, she did her best to shake it off, choosing instead to focus on her truck.

"It broke down," she said dumbly.

"I have a phone in the house you can use," he offered. His staring was really, _really_ starting to unnerve her.

"I have a cell phone," Bella countered, reaching into her coat pocket. She touched the screen as she withdrew it. Nothing. She realized she had forgotten to charge it after getting home from class that night.

"Dammit," She cursed softly. Rolling over her options, she reluctantly nodded.

As she neared the house, she was hit with another wave of familiarity followed quickly by panic. Why would this place be familiar? She had never been here before.

"No," she whispered harshly.

"What's wrong?" He questioned. "It's perfectly fine, Bella." He grasped her hand with his own and began leading her once again towards the house.

Bella gasped, not just at the coolness of his hand, but at the sudden warring of elation and dread that churned in her gut. "How.. how do you know my name?"

The man looked panicked, stumbling over his words. "I...I..."

Realizing they were still walking towards the house, she dug her heels in, halting his progress once again. "No, no, no, NO!" The last one was screamed, as she jerked her arm from his lax embrace, ignoring the tear of leather that filled the night air. Turning, she swiftly legged it back to her truck and ripped open the door. She hopped in the cab, and jammed her key in the ignition within seconds of slamming the door shut.

"Please...please...please," she began to beg under her breath as the engine grinded in protest. A forth turn of the key proved to be the charm as the engine caught and roared to life. Shifting quickly into reverse, she backed her truck up onto his lawn (not caring that her tires tore up his grass in the process) shifted back into first, and tore off in the direction she had originally come. Desperate to escape the house, and the golden haired man who stood heart broken in front of it.

Tears running down her cheeks, she ignored the part of her that desperately begged her to go back.

**-oo-**

Hours later, a still stunned Jasper shakingly dialed Peter's number. He didn't even wait for Peter to finish his customary "Yeah?" before interrupting him.

"She's back," he breathed, equal parts awe and disbelief coloring his voice.

"Bella's back."

* * *

_**A/N2: For anyone that reads my other story Freaky Twiday, I'm about to give the same spiel I gave over there. A few days ago I got the idea for a new story and I've been writing like a demon, seriously, my fingers are callused. And while I super happy that I'm blowing through it so fast, it has sadly pushed every thing else to the side. I tried to write this chapter at least a dozen times and just... blanked. I'm keeping my fingers crossed that at the rate I'm going I'll finish my story in a week or so and be able to refocus on this one. And until that one IS finished, the updates for my other stories are going to slow slightly. I repeat slightly. They WILL NOT stop. It's just going to take me a bit longer to get them out. So instead of my weekly updates, it will be somewhere in the vicinity of two weeks instead...**_

**_Argg.. I promised myself I wouldn't become one of those authors... Please bare with me. And thank you again for all the support and amazing reviews!_  
**


	7. How Does it Feel?

**********Disclaimer: ****All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.**

_**A/N: Kay people, a lot of blood, sweat and tears (and maybe some hair from the constant pulling) went into writing this chapter. I scrambled to post it tonight so I didn't have to keep you waiting.  
**_

_**Hope it was worth the pain. :)**_

* * *

Peter stood in the yard, Charlotte beside him, staring in awe at the house in front of him. He hadn't seen the completed project, having been ordered away by Jasper earlier in its inception and had to admit he was impressed. And unnerved. It looked _exactly_ like the photograph Bella had handed to him 19 years earlier. Looking at it now and knowing that she had once lived in a house exactly like it was just...

Which reminded him why he was here.

_My maker has finally snapped._

He wasn't all that surprised really. It had definitely been a long time coming.

Heaving a sigh he exchanged a wary glance with Charlotte, before curling his hand in hers and walking up the stone pathway. Jasper didn't even wait for him to knock, throwing open the door with a wild look in his eyes and hair that had clearly been mussed by roaming hands.

"Did you know about this?" He barked the second Peter had crossed the threshold.

"Hey, you know it doesn't work that way." _Or any way lately,_ he thought. Not since that day. He considered it an adequate punishment for what he'd done. "You don't even know if it's her."

"Really?" Drawing a piece of fabric out of his back pocket, he thrust it under Peter's nose. "Smell that."

Okay, that was definitely going in the top five list of weirdest things he'd ever been asked.

Rolling his eyes, he decided to indulge his fanatic maker, by taking a cursory sniff. He smelled leather, which was to be expected since it looked like it had been ripped off a jacket, and underneath that was the scent of...

He snatched the material out of Jasper's hand and brought it close enough for it to be practically shoved up his nostrils. _Strawberries and Freesia,_ he realized, stunned. He had only come across that particular combination once in his long life.

Wordlessly, he passed the swatch to Charlotte, watching her eyes widen after she came to the same conclusion he had.

"Bella," she whispered.

Jasper smirked. "Still think I'm crazy?"

"This doesn't prove anything," Peter argued helplessly.

"I saw her, Peter. It was my Bella."

Whatever confusion he felt immediately turned to rage. "Oh, so now she's 'your Bella'?"

"Peter," Charlotte begged, tugging at his arm.

"No," he replied, shrugging her off and advancing towards Jasper. "How did she react when she saw you?"

"She was nervous..." Jasper reluctantly admitted. "Scared."

"Did she recognize you?"

"I don't... no."

A cruel smirk stretched Peter's lips. "How wonderfully fitting. Tell me Jasper, how _does_ it feel to be forgotten? Hmm?"

"But I felt the mating pull and I know she must have too."

"So? You think I'm going to let you do anything about it?"

A dark look settled on Jasper's face. "Excuse me?

"I won't let her get hurt again."

"I won't hurt her this time."

"How do you know that?"

"You can't keep me away from my mate," Jasper warned.

Peter scoffed. "You've already lost her twice. Don't you think this is fates way of telling you that you don't deserve her?"

"If it really thought that, it wouldn't have brought her to me again."

**-oo-**

Charlotte ran in front of him, forcing Peter to grind to a halt.

Back at the house, he had been seconds away from attacking Jasper. She could tell by the way the muscles in his back clenched, his hands curling and uncurling into claws. Jasper had snarled, taking a defensive position and Peter had regarded him for a few long, silent moments. Finally he sneered, "you're not even worth it," and turned swiftly on his heels, cracking the door as he left the house.

"Where are you going exactly?" She demanded.

"She has to be here somewhere. I have to find her," Peter replied desperately.

"Is that the best idea, Peter?"

"How can you ask that? You know what he's done to her."

"I do," she agreed softly. "I also know why he made the choices he did."

Peter snorted. "Please, you're going to let him place the blame solely on that seer bitch?"

"But he didn't. He realized the mistakes he made. What his choices cost him. You saw him that day, Peter, you've seen what it's done to him."

"He doesn't deserve her," Peter stubbornly argued.

"I don't know, Peter. The fact that she's alive, that she's here, that she's met Jasper... it must mean something."

"But he'll hurt her," he whimpered.

"Maybe, maybe not. I don't think that's up to us to decide. Yes, we could protect her from something terrible, or we could be keeping her from something wonderful."

"You can't expect me to just-"

"I don't, Peter," Charlotte replied, cutting him off. "But I think, for now at least, we need to be observers."

"Her venom stained my fingers, Char. I watched her burn."

"I was there, Peter." She snapped. "Do not think for one second that you suffered that alone. I mourned her too." Her tone softened. "But I think," she searched for the right words, "I think this may be bigger than us."

Falling to his knees, Peter replayed a memory that was as fresh as it was 19 years ago. He was certain that if he slept, he would see it in his nightmares.

"Fine," he breathed, looking away from Charlotte. "I won't look for her. Not yet at least. But we're staying." He stood, brushing the dirt from his pants and met Charlotte's gaze determinedly. "And _when_ he hurts her," he stressed, "I hope you'll be ready to pick up the pieces again."

"It won't come to that." Charlotte hoped she sounded more confident then she felt.

Nodding firmly, Peter beckoned her towards him and they took off for the outskirts of town, to find a 'no questions' motel to hole up in for the time being. She threw one last pleading glance over her shoulder, in the direction they had come from.

_Please, Jasper, don't let it come to that._

**-oo-**

Jasper ran shaky hands through his hair as he stared blankly at the doorway. He noted absently that, in his haste to leave, Peter had cracked the frame. He was thankful for the imperfection. It gave him something to fix. He had run out a long time ago, and with nothing more to occupy his hands or his mind, his thoughts would wander to...

_Oh God. I can't believe it's her._

**-oo-**

He had been in the backyard doing what he did every night, and had been surprised to hear the rumble of a vehicle in the distance. Though there were a few turn offs in the first few miles of road, as you got further back it was one that passed nothing of interest and would eventually loop itself around until you got back to pretty much the exact same place you started.

Now that he thought of it, this would be the first vehicle, a truck he concluded as it drew closer, that passed his place in months. Not that he had ever minded. He wanted the isolation.

He had been stunned when, at the same time he heard the sputtering signalling an engine that was about to stall, his instincts began screaming at him. He gulped in a breath of unnecessary air when the mild twinge he had felt earlier in his chest, turned to a painful tugging sensation, like a rope had been looped around his insides and something on the other end was engaged in a hearty competition of tug-o-war.

Frowning, he followed the direction it was pulling him in and hesitantly turned around the corner of the house. He stumbled when a loud, feminine, exclamation of "Dammit!" split the still night air.

That voice...

It lacked the southern inflection on its words, but he'd swear...

_Impossible._

He was forced to squint at the darkened cab. He had been neglecting his feeding habits for years, only bothering to hunt when the thirst became unbearable and then he would punish himself by feeding on only small animals. It was just enough to keep his eyes a darkened gold, barely tiptoeing the line of a thirsty black, and had proved to dull his senses (and his gift) significantly.

The figure hunched over the wheel looked vaguely female, with long, dark hair blocking her features. Despite the desperate urge to use a burst a vampire speed to approach the side of the truck, he crossed the lawn keeping his pace light and sedate. Had his heart beat, it would have been thundering at this point, as a scent, both familiar and yet _not_, wafted out of the cracked window he was currently tapping on.

"Are you alright, Miss?"

She turned to him wide-eyed and at that moment, he wanted to scream, to cry, to laugh, to fall to his knees and thank the God he had stopped believing in a long time ago.

The changes were subtle. The skin of her face a shade or two darker, and the wide eyes a deep chocolate, rather than the burnished gold that had looked into his eyes 19 years ago. That was the same shade his Isabella had had when she was human.

But no matter the small differences, there was no question at all. It was _her_.

That shocking realization had caused him to stumble over his next question, stepping back in surprise when instead of answering she motioned him backwards instead.

His breath caught as she popped open the door and slid from her seat. As her eyes ran appreciatively over him, he returned the favor. Disbelieving drinking in every inch that still looked exactly like he remembered her. Even the clothes she was wearing mirrored the outfit she had on that day, minus the boots. He was certain she was nothing more than a figment of his imagination and desperately fought the urge to reach out to caress her face, run his fingers through her hair, hug her, anything to prove that she was real.

Her eyes met his again, the small spark of familiarity causing his heart to flutter. She recognized him. This was it, she'd say his name and everything would be...

"Do I know you?"

The small piece of hope shattered. The tables had been turned and he wanted to weep at the unfairness of it all. He wanted to shake her, he wanted to fall desperately to her feet and beg her to remember him.

He could tell his silence was making her uncomfortable, so he made the attempt at neutral conversation in the offer of help. Anything to make her stay longer, anything to get her into the house. He hoped that stepping onto the property would trigger her memories just like it had his own.

Instead, the closer they got to the house, the more panicked she seemed to get. In his desperation, he reached for her hand and did the worst thing he could have done at that moment. He called her by name.

A brief burst of elation spread through him when he realized it was yet another thing they shared. She was still his Bella. It was a feeling that disappeared as quickly as it came.

He stared down at the ripped leather in his hand, unable to watch as the truck squealed off into the direction it had came. Unable to watch her run away from him.

Stumbling back to the house, his mind whirled as he reached for the phone.

**-oo-**

He wondered if he made a mistake by letting Peter know. So desperate to prove that he wasn't crazy, that this _had_ happened, he hadn't stopped to consider what his reaction might be.

Was he right? Did she run away because fate decided he didn't deserve her? Did it just throw her in his face merely to taunt him? To show what he gave up?

He had read somewhere once that, _'true love always gets a second chance.'_ Unfortunately it never said anything about a third one.

He didn't have the slightest idea how to proceed. Considering how she reacted to him tonight, he doubted simply stalking her down (which he desperately wanted to do) would be the best decision.

With the way Peter raced out of his house, he probably didn't have the same stipulations, and unlike Jasper, her last memories of him and Charlotte would be fond, grateful, maybe even loving.

So despite the fact that his mate was alive again, that she was so close and knew of his existence, he did the only thing he really could do in that moment.

He wept.

**-oo-**

Bella stared down at the phone cradled in her hand as she contemplated whether she should call her mother or not. She hadn't talked to her since before... that night. She was desperate to hear her voice, but afraid that she would pick up on the quiver in her own.

It had been two days since she had ran from that strange man and the myriad of feelings he had invoked in her. The whole way back home to her apartment, she found herself battling with the urge to turn her truck around and... well, she wasn't sure exactly what she wanted to do.

She had always been a bit of a complicated person her entire life. _'I don't get you,'_ was a phrase she'd heard a lot, even once or twice from her own parents. And to be honest, she didn't get herself sometimes either.

But for a brief, _brief_ moment, when she met that stranger's eyes... she got it.

And _that_ confused the hell out of her.

To feel like you knew someone when you didn't know them at all made her very unsettled. It bothered her that it didn't bother her and rolling that thought around in her head had made her shuffle through emotions quicker than a six year old on a sugar rush.

_He said my name,_ she reminded herself. _Why did he say my name? How did he know my name?_

That's the part that was bothering her the most... that and what had happened when she finally fell into a fitful sleep later that night.

Her dream had changed again.

This time, instead of the primroses in her hand, she was standing in a field of forget-me-nots as her name, spoken in the same drawl she had heard that night, echoed around her.

This time she woke up angry. She was frustrated at the vague nature of her dreams and wished that they would finally come out and just say whatever it was they were trying to tell her.

Oh yes, she was now certain more than ever that her dreams were trying to tell her something.

And she didn't know why, or how, but that man had something to do with it. But what?

Did she dare attempt to track him down again and ask him? Would he be receptive after her bi-polar display that night?

_Do I even want to_, was the bigger question.

After two days of asking herself these questions, she had finally picked up the phone, desperate to hear some voice other than the one in her head.

Reaching to punch the numbers in, she was startled out of the action by the sudden pounding at her door.

Was it him? Did she want it to be?

Hesitantly she crossed the room, cell phone still in hand. Her finger hovered over the button that would speed dial the police (a number her mother had made her promise to key in) and cursing that her door lacked a peep hole.

Inhaling deeply, she unlocked the door and opened it a crack. When she peeked out at the disheveled person, a broken-hearted look twisting their face, she quickly swung it open the rest of the way.

"Mom?!"

* * *

_**A/N2: Was Peter kind of harsh to Jasper?... Perhaps. They always have a great relationship in every story I've ever read and this is me attempting to explore a fractured one. And I hoped I explained a little bit more about why Bella ran so hot and cold in the last chapter... but I'd still like to know what you thought!**_


	8. Connecting the Pieces

**************Disclaimer: ****All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.**

_**A/N1: So... this chapter is a little (maybe a lot) later then my promised update schedule. Um... sorry? In my defense, I really thought the world was going to end on the twenty first, so I didn't bother working on a new chapter. What? You saw that I posted THREE new chapters on my other story? Well.. I... You see.. HEY! LOOK OVER THERE!**_

_***Runs away***_

* * *

Bella, not used to people being at her door _period, _was completely floored at the sight, falling quiet as she gaped at the figure long enough for the silence to become vaguely uncomfortable.

"Mom?" She repeated, stupidly.

"He left me," she sobbed.

"What?" Bella was a little unbalanced thanks to the last few days and her brain just wasn't making the proper connections as to who exactly _he_ was.

"Phil left me!" She wailed.

Bella cringed. As polite as her neighbors appeared on the few random times their paths crossed in the hallways, they probably wouldn't appreciate someone screaming hysterically outside her door at; she checked the clock on her wall and her eyes widened, one in the morning.

Ushering her mother through the door, she leaned down to grab the hastily packed bag (made obvious by the clothes sticking out between the unzippered halves) that was crookedly propped up against the door jamb.

Leading her mother to the couch, Bella placed the bag behind it and encouraged her to shrug off her soaking wet jacket. It had only started raining a few minutes ago, but her mother was drenched enough to make Bella seriously wonder if she had walked here.

"How did you get here?" Bella asked, giving the jacket a quick shake and draping it over the scarred coffee table.

"Drove," she muttered.

"In this condition? Mom, you could have driven off the road." Bella was hard torn between anger that her mother had even chanced it and relief that nothing had happened. "Why didn't you just call me?"

"I didn't want to stay in that house with _him_ for a second longer."

Bella felt her anger melt away when she began crying again. Pulling down the small blanket over the back of the couch, she wrapped it around her mother's shivering shoulders.

"Here, Mom. Try to warm up. I'll make you some tea."

Bella walked around the half-wall that divided the kitchen from her living room, her thoughts in turmoil. The tables had been turned. Instead of seeking out her mother for comfort, she was now the comfortee. She worried that she wasn't going to be in the right state of mind for that.

Reaching up into the cupboard, she pulled down a plain black mug and set it to the side of her small stove. Grabbing the small teapot beside it, she filled it with water from the tap and flicked on the burner as she sat it down. Fumbling slightly with the package of green tea she had bought specifically for her mother's visits (thought she hadn't expected her this soon... or for this reason) she withdrew a single bag and set it in the mug.

She could hear her mother sniffling in the living room and turned away from the sight of her slumped form to focus on the kettle instead. What would she say? She had been so certain that her and Phil had been happy together. Not necessarily madly in love, but content at least. Even during the last call to her mother two days ago, there hadn't been the slightest indication that things were wrong between them.

Though it had taken Bella a while to warm up to him, for the most part, she had genuinely liked Phil. Even though he had been the polar opposite of her dad Charlie, who had been a stoic man with a rather wry sense of humor, she had figured that's why he had gotten along with Renee so well. They were both cheerful, care-free people who had a tendency to live in the moment (though Renee's fun-loving attitude had been admittedly dampened by her husband's death).

Sure, Phil had been a little distant and occasionally uncomfortable around her, but she imagined any man coming into a relationship that included a teen daughter in the package would be a little intimidated. She had never really let it bother her because he made her mom so happy. Or at least she thought he did.

The whistling kettle broke her out of her thoughts and she shut the burner off and poured the steaming hot water into the mug. Securing it firmly in her hands, she carefully maneuvered her way back to the couch, pressing the mug into her mother's hands and waiting until she wrapped her lax fingers around it.

"He left me," her mother repeated dully. Her tears had dried up and she was now staring blankly at the wall.

Bella took a place beside her and gently asked, "What happened?"

"He said he met some else. That," her voice hitched, "it's been going on for a while. He said he didn't mean to hurt me, it _just happened_," she mocked before laughing bitterly.

"I deserved it," she decided after a moments silence.

"How could you even say that, Mom?!"

"I betrayed your father's memory. It was too soon... I- I wasn't really over him."

"Why... why did you date Phil then?" Bella asked hesitantly.

"I felt like it was something I should at least try. I knew me being sad was making you sad, sweetheart."

"Mom..." Bella trailed off guiltily. Yes, she had wished that her mother's pain would eventually lessen, but she had never intended to force her into anything.

Her mother seemed to sense it and placed down her untouched mug before turning towards her. Clasping her hands,she insisted, "Don't even think that for a second, Bell. I never doubted you wanted the best for me. You didn't make me date Phil, I chose to take that step. I thought I was ready." She shuddered. "But maybe I really wasn't."

She raised almost child-like eyes to Bella. "This is my fault, isn't it? I'm the one that insisted we take it slow. I tried so hard to," she began blinking rapidly, "move on and I think he sensed that I was holding back." The dam broke and tears streamed down her cheeks. "But I couldn't move on. I miss my Charlie so much, Bell!" She collapsed into her arms and Bella pulled her into a fierce hug.

Her sobs vibrated Bella's frame and she could feel the tears gather in her own eyes.

Distantly, she wondered if she would ever find a love as strong as the one her parents had shared. Though they had married young and had what most people would consider _conflicting_ personalities, they had truly led proof to the adage that 'opposites attract'. To be honest, as Bella got older and failed to find anything particularly appealing in the boys her age, she had been slightly jealous of the bond her parents shared. She was sure that the male population that she associated with on a regular basis had considered her snobby, and even though it had been hell on her social life, she had just decided early on that she wouldn't settle for anything less then a similar connection.

The hand that had been running through her mother's tangled hair stopped as she flashed back to that night and recalled the knot that had both tightened and loosened within her when she met the man's strangely familiar ochre eyes.

And for the hundredth time since that night, she wondered if that had been the connection she was waiting for._  
_

**-oo-**_  
_

"The hot water will do you good," Bella urged as she gently pushed her mother into the steamy bathroom. It had been a bit of a struggle in the beginning, but when her eyelids had started drooping, Bella had been finally able to entice her mother off of the couch.

Pulling the door shut, she pressed her ear up against the wood, waiting until she heard the rustle of clothing being removed. She returned to the living room and grabbed her mother's bag. Sitting it down on her bedroom floor (it was still to damp to put on her bed) she undid the sloppily buckled strap that held it together and frowned as she dug through its contents. As she eyed the mismatched clothing, five shirts, including one ridiculously dressy one, one pair of pants (a pair she knew for a fact that her mother hadn't worn in years), two pairs of ratty underwear and one sock, she knew that her mother's decision to come here was definitely a last minute one.

Moving over to her dresser, Bella began digging through the top drawer, searching for the warmest set of pajamas she owned. Considering the temperature was still pleasantly mild around these parts, most of her nightwear was comprised of t-shirts and shorts. Thankfully long sleeved shirts were pretty much the staple of her wardrobe, no matter what the weather, so she pulled out one of them and added a pair of loose yoga pants. It was a good thing her and her mother were roughly the same size.

Knocking lightly on the bathroom door, she cracked it open and peeked her head in when she failed to get a response.

"You okay, Mom?" She asked softly.

"I'll be out in a minute," she replied tonelessly.

Entering the room, she set the clothes on the sink. "I have some PJ's for you," she said, leaning over to the small set of drawers that held her towels and pulling one out to place on top of them. She reached up into the medicine cabinet and grabbed the spare toothbrush that she always kept handy. "And a toothbrush."

"Mmhmm." Her mother hummed from behind the curtain.

Bella shuffled out of the bathroom and quickly changed into her own pajamas as she heard the water cut off. She turned down the sheets on the bed, after adding an extra blanket from her closet, then grabbed a second set and made her way back into the living room.

"What are you doing?" Bella jumped when her mother's hoarse voice spoke behind her.

"Making up the couch," she replied as she placed the last blanket down. "You can have the bed."

"It's a double, Bell."

"I know, but-"

"No buts." Bella grinned down at the couch. She was using her 'mom voice.' "I'm not making you sleep on the couch. We'll share."

Bella turned with a sad smile. It was something they had done often the first week after her father had died and it was no surprise she was seeking that same comfort.

"We share," Bella agreed.

Curled up under the blankets, Bella entwined her fingers with her mother's. "Tell me again how you and dad first met?" She asked softly. Despite having heard the story a hundred times, seeing the tears dry up and the nostalgic smile spread across her mother's moonlit face, made it worth hearing again.

**-oo-**

"Are you sure that it's alright that I stay?"

"It's fine, Mom," Bella assured her for the second day in a row.

She had sensed her mother's reluctance to return home, even after a teary phone call from Phil begging her to come back so they could _talk_ (if anything, that made her even less eager) and hadn't hesitated to offer up her space for the time being. Her mother worked primarily out of her home (Bella wasn't the only one with artistic skill in the family, her mother was quite a talented sculptor) and, according to her, all the bills were paid up, so it wasn't like she had any pressing need to return any time soon.

Though her mood was still melancholic, her mother had managed to fall into the playful banter of 'why men suck' over a pint of Ben and Jerry's when Bella had gotten home from class that day.

"Are you dating anyone yet?" She asked as she spooned a small serving of the chocolatey goodness into her mouth.

"If I was, don't you think you'd know already?" Though Bella's tone was playfully sarcastic, she once again flashed back to that night thanks to her mother's next question.

"Well have you met someone at least?"

_I don't know._ "No."

"Don't let my terrible experience deter you in any way, Bell. There _is_ someone out there for you."

_And did I already meet him?_ Bella wondered.

It was on the tip of her tongue to bring up everything, but she found herself hesitating again. As she struggled with the issue, she realized there _was_ something she could ask, something that, thanks to spending the last few days either in a haze or comforting her mother, she hadn't thought to research yet.

"Mom, do you remember Gram's garden?"

She lowered her spoon. "Do I remember my own mother's garden? What kind of question is that?"

Bella rolled her eyes. "Do you... you wouldn't happen to know anything about flowers would you?"

"Why? Are you interested in planting some? I don't really see how that's possible. I mean, maybe you can talk to the super about putting a little garden on the roof. Or maybe a potted-"

"No, not that. You wouldn't happen to know what they _mean_, would you?"

"Oh, you mean floriography."

"What?"

"The language of flowers. Mom used to have a book on it. It was actually really fascinating. It told you what every flower meant, and how the meanings could change with a color or a certain arrangement. I wonder what happened to that book." She trailed off with a thoughtful look on her face.

"Mom," Bella cut in exasperated. She knew her mother all to well, if she let her get too far off track, she'd never get back on.

She shook her head. "Right. You were saying?"

"What do Primroses mean? I remember Gram used to plant them every year."

"Ah, yes. She planted those in memory of your grandfather, did you know that? I tried to plant them after Charlie died, but apparently my thumb hasn't gotten any less black over the years."

Bella was starting to get anxious. "What do they mean?" she repeated.

"I can't live without you, or basically I am yours forever." She fixed Bella with a curious stare. "Why are you asking anyways?"

"No reason," Bella stuttered. "Um, you still want to go to the movies tonight?" There was some faculty thing scheduled for tomorrow and all classes had been cancelled for the day. Knowing that she wouldn't have to get up the next morning, Bella thought this was an excellent time to take her mother out for a night on the town.

Her mother nodded slowly obviously a bit dumbfounded at the sudden subject change.

"Well, I'm gonna take a quick shower before we go."

Walking as quickly to the bathroom as she could without looking like she was running, Bella closed the door behind her. Turning the tap to as close to hot she could get without scalding her skin, she pulled it out slightly and the shower head sprung to life. Pulling the curtain shut, she walked over to the mirror and spanned her hands on each side of the sink as she turned over what her mother had just told her.

She thinks she finally understands part of what her dream is trying to tell her.

_If I combine the two items in my hand, the rock and the flower it means- _She paused and, as the steam began swirling around her, looked up at her reflection.

"I'm yours forever... Jasper," she whispered.

* * *

_**A/N2: Shhh... do you hear that? That's the sound of another puzzle piece clicking into place. ;) **_

_**P.S: For any of you that happen to read Freaky Twiday, I apologize for the lack of updates, but I got nothing, zilch, nada. I'm sorta of a 'it happens' writer, meaning I don't (or better yet, I can't) toil away days on a chapter, I literally have a BAM moment, and write it all down in the space of a few hours. So without the 'bam' I can't write it. I suppose I could force it, but then you'd just end up with a terrible mess. So I rather you get nothing then something that probably wouldn't even be considered sub-par. It's unfortunately the same way it works with this story as well, and I truly am sorry. Hope you understand! **_


	9. She Was Worth It

**************Disclaimer: ****All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.**

******************_A/N1: Your guys support of this story has been absolutely staggering (over 170 reviews, I truly can't thank you enough!) and it has just about killed me to make you wait this long for a new chapter. I'll explain why at the end._  
**

******************_And please, tread softly...  
_**

* * *

Bella stepped outside and began blinking rapidly as her eyes attempt to adjust to the brightness of the streetlamp situated outside of the movie theater.

Her mom stumbled out behind her, shaking her legs, no doubt trying to get the feeling back in them. "Wasn't that great?" She grinned.

"Best four hours of my life," Bella agreed sarcastically.

Originally they had planned on going to some random 'blockbuster' of the month, but when Bella had went back to the kitchen after getting out of the shower, she had seen her mother hunched over the paper (which Bella had picked up specifically to peruse the movie listings) smiling giddily.

_"What is it?" She asked, running a towel through her hair._

_Her mother slid the paper across the table and pointed at the small ad in the corner. Bella bent at the waist and squinted at the small print, groaning loudly when the words swam into focus. _

_"Really?" _

_Her mother was a crazy horror fan, and while Bella had developed a healthy appreciation for them because of this, she had seen this particular cult series (three movies in total) at least a dozen times. It was her mother's go to Halloween movie set._

_She looked at the ad again, frowning when she noticed the first movie didn't start until 9:00pm. That meant it wouldn't get out until at least one in the morning. And, while she was familiar with the movie theater it was playing at, it was of the dingier sort and was located on the edge of what some people considered the 'seedier' part of town. Not exactly what she had in mind when she suggested going to the movies, but looking at her mother's hopeful face, she knew what her answer would be._

_Besides, at least four hours of mindless violence and twisted humor would give her a small break from the tumultuous thoughts brought on by her revelations in the shower.  
_

_She sighed. "We better stop to eat first. There's no way I'm going to last four hours with nothing but stale popcorn and watered down pop to tide me over." _

"Ah," her mother sighed inhaling the slightly cool night air. "Those movies never get old."

Bella snorted. "Those movies were old twenty years ago."

"Excuse me?" Her mother replied indignantly. "What does that say about me then?"

"That like those movies, you get better with age?" Bella chuckled nervously.

Her mother stared at her for a long moment. "Nice save." She grinned.

"We should get going," Bella muttered, glancing around uneasily.

While it was great for catching older movies and small indie pics that the bigger theaters wouldn't be caught dead playing, it had the _worst_ parking spot ever. For some strange reason, it was across the street behind a building that had long been abandoned. In fact, most of the buildings on this street were abandoned and in various states of decay. The only other businesses besides the theater, were the small pizzeria (closed at this hour) next to the theater and a convenience store that was across the street and three (and a half of one) buildings over from where they were standing. Though the lights were on, half of the neon letters were burnt out and customers were welcomed to the, WIK MA.

While she was sure it made sense when the rest of the buildings were open and the area was flourishing, the sad part was that they all shared the same parking lot. That meant if you stopped at the store that proclaimed itself _'open for 24 hours'_ after it got dark, you were guaranteed the most unnerving two minute walk ever. Thirty seconds if you ran. The guy who designed this whole area must have been a genius.

It wouldn't be so bad if there were other people milling around, which wasn't unusual on the weekends (despite the shabby look of the restaurant, she had heard they served the best pizza in town and the theater regularly ran 'Five Dollar Friday' promotions for movies that had just recently stopped showing at regular theaters). Through the week though, it was the equivalent of a ghost town.

There had only been 5 other people in the theater besides her and her mother. One couple had left after the first movie; the female half loudly complaining that it was the most disgusting thing she had ever seen, another pair left in a huff half way through the third after her mother shouted, "Get a room!" when they started to get a little too hot and heavy three rows down from them. The last one, a male roughly her age, was obviously the boyfriend of the poor employee that had been forced to work tonight. He had been helping her clean up behind the counter when they exited the theater.

The only sound in the still night air was the soft squeak of her sneakers and the clicking noise of her mother's low heeled boots. Bella glanced up at the buzzing noise overhead, uneasily eying the flickering streetlamp. There was a sudden cloying feeling to the air and Bella's uneasiness grew as she felt the hair on the back of her neck prickle.

Her mother didn't appear to have the same concerns, chatting idly about her favorite scenes in the movies, seemingly indifferent to the fact that Bella wasn't answering her and had picked up the pace significantly.

Bella tensed when she heard something shuffle in the darkened area located roughly at the end of the other side of the parking lot. Keeping her eyes resolutely forward, focused on her truck (which she had parked specifically under the only dim light in the whole lot). It was taken all of her will power not to break out into a swift jog. In her defense they _had_ just gotten out of a horror movie, three at that, filled with all sorts of hideous creatures that would probably consider a place like this the perfect hunting ground. She was sure was just being paranoid.

Apparently she wasn't hiding it that well, because her mother immediately asked, "Bell, what's wrong?"

"Nothing, Mom," she forced out a strained chuckle. "It's just me being-"

There was a sudden swift rush of air and Bella felt something slam into her. Hard. She sprawled on the ground, wind knocked out of her, gasping desperately for breath.

"Bella!" Her mother screamed.

A hand clamped around her upper arm and roughly jerked her around on her back. She began squirming immediately, still struggling to pull air into her lungs, attempting to break the iron grip on her arms. She froze when the figure holding her leaned right up in her face, fear flooding through her when, despite the dim lighting, she clearly registered the strange ruby-redness of his eyes and the cruel smile that stretched his pale lips.

He inhaled loudly. "My, don't you smell delicious," he purred, blowing his pungent, coppery scented breath in her face.

She whimpered loudly as tears began streaming down her cheeks.

"Get the hell off my daughter!" There was a whistle as something sliced through the air followed by a metallic clang as it connected with the side of his head. Though it appeared to be enough to stun him into rolling off her, it seemed that it did more damage to the pipe then it did him. There was a second clang as the pipe literally broke in half and fell to the pavement.

**-oo-**

Renee hesitated slightly as she stared disbelievingly at the, now broken, thick metal pipe in her hand (that she had miraculously found leaning up against the building behind her) before the same fierce look of a mother protecting her daughter entered her eyes. Bella scrambled back as she threw the object aside and settled for attacking him directly, jumping on him and swinging at him in a self defense move similar to the one that Charlie had taught them both years ago. A loud snapping noise split the air and Renee screamed as she clutched her shattered hand.

"Mom!" She snapped her gaze to Bella, who was struggling to get to her feet.

"Run Bella!" She roared, jerking roughly at the man whose attention was drawn back to Bella when she screamed. She began clawing at every part of him she could, ignoring the agonizing pain of her broken hand and the blood that began to seep from her fingernails when they were torn off in the process.

Her blood appeared to be the best distraction, because as soon as the first sign of red streaked his face, a snarl split the air and he immediately flipped Renee over on her back.

Cold hands wrapped harshly around her neck, shoving her head into the pavement with a forceful thud. She sluggishly tilted her head to the side and met her daughter's horrified gaze, which was darting erratically from the man to the broken piece of pipe on the ground at her feet. "Run Goddammit!" She choked out.

**-oo-**

With a sob, Bella ran, not towards her truck, but back towards the theater.

"Help! Help! Help!" She shrieked as she ran, her vision blurred from the tears stinging her eyes. She stumbled around the corner, and slammed into something that once again sent her sprawling to the ground.

"Oh my god! Are you alright!" A husky male voice demanded as he kneeled beside her.

Bella's vision swam as she looked up, her mind allowing her only a brief moment of recognition before it finally started to collapse under the strain. "Mommy," she croaked and passed out.

**-oo-**

Golden eyes flashed as a battle began to wage within him. Bella had asked him to help her mother, but in order to do that, he would have to leave her here. Knowing he only had moments to decide, he quickly took stock of the area, noting the darkened buildings and the empty street. If anyone else was around, it was clear they either didn't hear her scream, or just didn't care if they did. In this part of town, either could be possible.

He shrugged off his jacket and wrapped it around her seconds before a gurgled scream pierced the night air.

_She'll never forgive you if you don't at least try,_ his thoughts whispered harshly.

Decision made, he smoothed a hand through her tear matted hair and darted around the corner, vehemently promising to whatever God was listening, that if anything happened to Bella while he was gone, nothing would stop him from tearing the whole world apart.

**-oo-**

"Such a noble little human." The man chuckled, as he licked at the blood dotting Renee's cheek. "But it was all for nothing. As soon as I'm done with you, I'm gonna track her down. I doubt the little chickee has gotten far anyway, not with the knowledge that her mother is about to die weighing down her every step."

"Don't touch her," Renee slurred, struggling to stay conscious.

"Don't worry. I'll only make it hurt... a lot." He smirked.

Renee sneered weakly and managed to spit a glob of blood in his eye.

The man tutted and ran a finger through it before trailing it down to his lips. "Mmmm," he moaned as he sucked it off. "Such a tease. I hope your daughter tastes as good as you do."

"What are you?" Renee whispered.

He leaned close to her ear. "I'm the stuff nightmares are made of, honey," he murmured.

She let out a strangled scream when she felt sharp teeth viciously tear into the skin of her neck. She felt the gulping motions of his throat against her chin and blinked dully as her struggles grew sluggish and her vision began to fade.

Even after all those years of watching them, horror movies had never prepared her for something like this.

Suddenly the pressure at her throat stopped and the heavy weight on her body was removed. Unable to move her head, she could only listen to the dual snarls and the sounds of a struggle before a loud, screeching tear echoed through the empty parking lot.

A man kneeled beside her. He was very handsome; the dim light from the lone streetlamp cast a halo around the shaggy blond waves of his hair. His dark eyes pierced her, but she wasn't afraid. She recognized those eyes. She saw them every time she looked into the mirror. This man had suffered a terrible loss, perhaps even worse than her own and, even knowing that she was going to die, she pitied him.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, clasping his hand in hers. "I didn't get here in time."

She tried to speak around the blood rapidly welling in her mouth "B'la?"

"She's... fine."

"'Tect her." Somewhere, in the dim recesses of her rapidly flicking mind, she just knew it was right to ask this of him.

"I will," he swore. "I'll never let anyone hurt her ever again."

_ "Not even me,"_ she thought she heard him mutter.

Gathering up the last bit of strength she had to properly form her next words, she weakly squeezed his fingers and offered him a pained smile. "Let 'er know I lo-" she coughed wetly, "-ove 'er. An' ne'er let 'er doubt that she... she was worth it."

A tear trailed down her cheek as her breathed slowly petered out and a soft smile grace her lips.

_I'm coming my Charlie._

* * *

_**A/N2: So two reasons really, one, I had to go to a bit of a dark place to even get this chapter out of me, and two, I knew it was going to blindside a lot of you. None of you even showed a hint of suspicion for what I was going to do to Renee's character, instead complimenting me on her and Bella's relationship and how it was going to play into the Jasper/Bella one. And for that I am doubly sorry. **_

_**When I initially started this story, although I planned on a more 'functional' mother/daughter bond between the two, I never expected it would turn out like it did, especially in the last chapter. But, originally, I didn't plan for this particular twist at all. It's just was about halfway through chapter 4 I believe, when I was discussing this story with a family member, that it was suggested. And I realized, as much as it may anger some of you, it needed to happen. I'm not going to go into specifics as for the 'why' if was brought up, because, frankly, they make me sound heartless, but I'm hoping you all will at least try to understand. And don't hesitate to let me know how you feel about it.**  
_


	10. What Happens Now?

**************Disclaimer: ****All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.**

******************_A/N: I want to give yet another thanks to you guys for being so understandably great about the snail-pace updates with this story, especially considering I've ran into a few reviewers on other authors stories that haven't been quite so... appreciative of similar things. I'm firmly convinced I have the best readers ever. You guys are awesome._  
**

* * *

"I had to find out about this on the news?" Peter snarled.

Jasper blandly surveyed the damage to his door. He hadn't even gotten around to fixing the crack from the last time Peter had flung it open in a fit of rage. With a grim sort of bemusement, he briefly wondered if he should install the vampire equivalent of a doggie door to prevent this from happening again in the future.

The sardonic quirk to his lips slid off his face as he met Peter's furious gaze. He was really getting tired of the Mexican standoffs that occurred whenever he and Peter were in the same room. He remembered a time when he used to call him his friend. A time when he used to call him brother.

"I haven't exactly had much time to process this," he defended.

It had only been less than twenty four hours since he had crossed the threshold of his house, blood staining his shirt and a limp, unconscious Bella cradled in his arms. Having no television or radio in the house, he wasn't even aware that what had happened had made the news. He really shouldn't have been surprised though. He absently made a note to pick up a radio in the near future.

He collapsed onto his sofa and cradled his head in his hands. "What are the saying about it?"

Peter began pacing the floor, rapidly recapping what he had heard on the news, so fast that, even to Jasper, the words were a blurred, jumbled mess, the volume of them escalating with each passing second.

"Be quiet," Jasper hissed.

Peter's words cut off abruptly and he shot an almost surprised look at Jasper's closed bedroom door, as if he was only just registering the sound of a heartbeat.

"She's here?"

Jasper's eyes widened with incredulity. "Where the hell else would I take her?"

The information seemed to placate him somewhat and he sank into the chair across from Jasper as Charlotte balanced precariously on the arm.

Jasper nodded absently in approval. "You think you can tell me that one more time?" He asked, unable to keep the reproachfulness out of his voice. He fought a wince, telling himself that he needed to realize he was no longer talking to a man who respected him, but one who considered him, for lack of a better word, the enemy.

Peter glared and kept it brief. "They're investigating a possible homicide and Bella has been declared missing."

"How did they know she was with her?"

"A girl who worked at the theater and her boyfriend saw them leave together. They both heard the screaming about ten minutes later. She's the one who called the cops."

Jasper nodded, almost feeling bad for the few that still lived in a part of town that had seemingly been forgotten, considering how slow their response time had been. He had enough time to dispose of the unknown vampire's parts and had only picked up the faint wail of sirens approaching the lot as he was finishing... His thoughts cut off and he looked guiltily down at his shaking hands. The blood was gone, but the memory of what he had done was still fresh in his mind.

He must have been staring at them to long, because he heard the low, suspicious tones of Peter's voice asking, "What did you do?"

"What I had to," Jasper replied impassively.

"What does that mean?"

"Her mother..."

"You fed from her?" Peter accused.

Jasper's head snapped up, fire in his still very much golden gaze. "No," he hissed. "I never even thought about it. Not even for a second. How could you..?" His words choked off and he turned his head away. He could sense the briefest flash of guilt in Peter's emotions.

"I'm sorry," Peter replied with obvious reluctance.

Jasper didn't bother to acknowledge his apology, at this point, it didn't matter anyways. "She was close to death by the time I got there. To close to be changed."

Charlotte, who had been silent from the moment her and a furious Peter had stormed into his house, tilted her head curiously."Would you have if you could of?"

"I don't know," Jasper admitted honestly.

People who came into this life really only ever felt one of two emotions, either they were foolishly elated at the thought of living forever (until they realized exactly how long _forever_ meant) or pissed that they were denied their right to a peace that could only be achieved by death. (This was usually reserved for the ones that had been already near death and turned against their will.) Though she never gave voice to it, Rose, who had experienced the latter, still harbored very bitter feelings towards the man who had changed her.

Given the feeling of peace that had swept over the woman as she lay dying, and her final whispered words, a man's name, which was imbued with enough love to make venom sting his eyes, he had a feeling she wouldn't have been too receptive to eternal life either.

No one liked being kept away from the one they loved. Jasper had to learn that the hard way.

"Who attacked them?" Peter asked impatiently, dragging him from his thoughts.

"A vampire."

"Well, that much is obvious," Peter replied exasperated.

"Other than that, I don't know," Jasper snapped. "It's not like he had a damn vampire birth certificate stuffed in his back pocket!" He paused and inhaled, trying to tamp down the rage that was bubbling up. Once. Twice. "He didn't have any identification on him," he repeated, this time keeping the scorn out of his voice. "Just some cash and a..." He gulped.

"A what?" Charlotte prodded gently.

"A knife."

Charlotte looked confused. "Why would he need a knife?" She asked, unknowingly running her tongue over the only weapon a vampire would ever truly need.

Jasper was frustrated, he hated not being able to answer all these questions, but he at least attempted a guess. "Maybe to cover it up."

Peter turned knowing eyes to him. "So you did it for him."

Charlotte sucked in a quick intake of breath. "Jasper... you didn't?!"

Jasper shuddered as he remembered dragging the blade of it roughly across the woman's throat, doing his best to obliterate the marks the vampire's teeth had left. "It had to be done. It was too obvious that she had been bitten by... _something_." He looked up at Peter. "Was anything mentioned about _it_?"

"No."

"Then I guess I did a good job," Jasper muttered grimly.

Charlotte appeared to be more affected by this information than Peter was. "Couldn't you have just hidden the body?"

"After burning his body, there wasn't enough time. And even if there was, I wouldn't have done it."

"Why?"

Jasper glanced over his shoulder towards the closed bedroom door. "She wouldn't have been able to get closure if her mother was declared missing."

"I hate to tell you this, but doing that only solved one of your problems."

"What do you mean?"

"Maybe you didn't hear me the first time," Peter spoke slowly, a mocking tone to his voice, "but you failed to take into account that now, they'll be searching for Bella."

Jasper cursed softly under his breath. The fact that he had been starving himself for years had dulled his mind significantly and it was obvious that he wasn't processing things as well as he had in the past. He had never stopped to consider all the possible outcomes.

"Her blood was found on the scene, and taking into account the part of town they were in, the police are understandably grim about her situation if it's any consolation."

It wasn't.

"How did you even know where to find her?" Suspicion entered Peter's eyes. "Have you been following her?"

"Do you think if I was, I would have let this happen?"

Jasper's jaw ticked when Peter shrugged and shot him a challenging look that seemed to say, _"I don't know, would you?"  
_  
He met it with a glare of his own. "I wasn't following her," he said through gritted teeth. "I was out for a hunt when I felt it. I felt her fear. It led me to her."

"The bond?" Charlotte gasped.

"Impossible," Peter snorted. "How could it be that strong already?"

Charlotte shot him a pointed stare. "Stranger things have happened, Peter. Evidence of that is currently lying in the bedroom."

"But it-"

"No, Peter. No more jumping to conclusions. We are just as confused about this as Jasper is, and all these assumptions are only making it worse."

Jasper was shocked that Charlotte had come to his defense and shot her a look conveying his gratitude. She returned it with a small smile, really only the slightest quirk of her lips, but it was definitely a start.

Peter didn't seem to be as appreciative of the gesture and he felt a small trickle of betrayal seep through his emotions. But thankfully he let the matter drop, choosing instead to run a frustrated hand through his hair.

"What's going to happen now?"

Jasper stood and began pacing. It was yet another thing he hadn't thought through clearly. "I don't know, goddammit!" He snapped, embarrassed at the impotence he felt over the whole situation.

He remembered a time when he had led armies, a time when he struck fear in the hearts of, not only his enemies, but those under his command. Awed, and terrified of his prowess on the battlefield, of his power, his strength and his intelligence. And now he looked little more than a bumbling idiot, going into the whole thing half cocked, not even bothering to put together a basic plan, even after the fact.

_My mate was in danger, dammit!_ He argued with himself.

With a firm nod, he stood up a little straighter, refusing to be ashamed when he realized full well that, if the situation was reversed, Peter wouldn't have hesitated to rush into the exact same situation without a second thought.

He met Peter's eyes resolutely, letting a bit of the Major persona that had long been absent, darken his irises. He'd admit to being a little proud that Peter broke the gaze first, turning his head away and obviously struggling with the urge to bow his head in submission.

There was a long stretch of uncomfortable silence before Charlotte broke it by hesitantly asking, "Can... Can we see her?"

Jasper jerked his head towards her. "No."

"Excuse me?" Peter snarled. "What do you mean no?"

"Your eyes."

That managed to take the steam out of Peter. "What? He asked, clearly confused.

Charlotte lowered her head, closing her eyes and touching the lids with something akin to shame. "I understand. The vampire that attacked her, his eyes were red." She explained to Peter as she lifted her head and blinked her own ruby orbs.

"That doesn't..."

"Peter," she laid a firm but comforting hand on his arm, "you have to remember that this... _version_ of Bella has no idea who we are and she... she may _never_ remember," she whispered heart-brokenly. "All she'll see when she looks at us right now is the red eyes of the man who killed her mother."

Peter fell silent, and in the sudden stillness of the room, Jasper could practically hear the wheels turning in his head.

He stood abruptly and offered his hand to Charlotte. "We have a stash of colored contacts at the house."

Jasper nodded sagely, remembering the brown ones Peter had worn when they had argued with the city council over the property. Despite the overall terrible taste of it, that was always the upside of drinking animal blood. While still an unusual color, it was a lot easier for people to remain blissfully oblivious with golden eyes, as opposed to the ruby red ones that were straight out of their worst nightmares.

"We will be back," Peter warned lowly. "Don't even _think_ about trying to keep her away from us."

"Whatever." Jasper was too tired with this conversation to even bothering arguing with him.

With one final glare, Peter swept out of the house pulling Charlotte behind him.

With a sigh, Jasper collapsed back into the chair, shooting a tentative glance at his bedroom door when he heard Bella tossing and turning, the occasional whimper escaping from her lips. He longed to enter the room and sweep her into a comforting embrace, but feared how she would react if she awoke and found herself in the arms of a stranger.

_Stranger._

He never knew that one word could hurt so much.

No, he couldn't afford to have her wake up right now, not until he figured out what he was going to do. He thanked his lucky stars that the hunger pangs had become so unbearable, he was forced to feed from a very unfortunate bear, moments before he had felt her fear through the bond. He had used the renewed strength the blood had given him to direct a steady dose of lethargy her way throughout his entire conversation with Peter and Charlotte.

Hearing her heart rate speed up, and sensing that she was near wakefulness, he tripled the strength of it and held himself tense until her breathing smoothed out and he was a hundred percent confident that she had fallen back into a deep, if not mildly disturbed, slumber. Slumping back into the chair he almost found himself hoping that Peter and Charlotte hurried the hell up.

Maybe then he'd know what to do.

* * *

_******************A/N2: I think I may finally be finding my groove with this story (and writing in general), since I decided to stop stressing so much and take a more relaxed, 'write what you can, when you can' approach to my writing. And I've seen a definite improvement in my overall temperament. While my updates still aren't going to be quite as often as I hope, I'm feeling a lot more confident and generally at ease about what I'm producing, and I wanna keep that feeling. So, that's gonna be the way I run for a while.**_


	11. Working It Out

**********Disclaimer: ****All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.**

_**************A/N: I apologize profusely for the extremely late update. I wish I had a reason for it, but the truth is that I don't. If I told you guys that life got in the way, I'd be lying through my teeth, so let's just say that sometimes my mind is my friend, but more frequently it is my enemy.**_

_**************You can actually thank Christina Perri for this update. I've had the song A Thousand Years (which I consider to be this stories unofficial theme song) on repeat on my IPod for four days straight in hope that it would inspire me. **_

_****************WARNING****_

_**************There is a bit of swearing in this chapter, including an instance of the F-Word (Peter's got a hell of a mouth on him when he's mad) but since I don't plan on it becoming a regular thing, again, I didn't feel like it necessitated a ratings change.**_

***************** This story has been nominated as Best Tear-Jerker over on the Non-Canon Awards and to whoever (or whomever) nominated this story, I thank you from the very bottom of my heart. I can't even be to describe the feeling that swept through me when I opened that email.*****

* * *

"Here," Peter said, shoving the large gym bag into Jasper's hands the minute he walked through the door. He and Charlotte had only been gone less than eight hours.

"What's this?" Jasper asked, staring dubiously down at it.

Peter rolled his (thanks to the tinted contacts) muddy brown eyes. "Have you had a chance to leave the house since you brought her here?"

"No," Jasper admitted reluctantly. "I couldn't leave her alone." Stepping away from the house any further than the yard would abruptly cut off the connection he had with Bella and he'd be unable to continue using his gift to keep her asleep. He could already feel the barest hints of her struggling against the lethargy and knew the minute he stopped, she'd wake up. He wasn't quite ready for that yet.

"Well than, we brought some stuff she might need." He looked around the house, pointedly staring in the direction of the kitchen that Jasper knew contained nothing but bare cupboards, a small wooden table (carved by himself in another desperate attempt to keep his hands and mind busy) and a sink. While he had simply built the room to stay true to the original designs of the house, he hadn't deemed it necessary to play human quite as fanatically as the Cullen's had and stock it with appliances he never intended to use. Even the sink itself was added as an afterthought.

"Thanks," he mumbled, a little relieved at what he hoped was a peace offering. He set the bag down on the couch and unzipped it. He slowly pulled out the first items, a few pairs of jeans, two pairs of soft cotton pants, some t-shirts and underwear with the tags still on them.

"The underwear is new, obviously, but he clothes were mine," Charlotte explained softly. "We looked to be the same size..." she trailed off awkwardly. "Back than at least. She... she hasn't changed that much has she?"

Jasper shook his head, placing the folded clothes on the cushion besides the bag. "She's exactly the same."

Peter let out a shaky breath behind him, traces of relief and happiness swirling through his emotions. Jasper thought he understood a least a little of what Peter was feeling. Though it was a bit unnerving for Bella to be basically an exact copy of her counterpart, it might have been a little more difficult to truly accept someone that looked completely different.

Jasper wondered if he would have had the same problem. He liked to think that even if he hadn't recognized her on the outside, the tattered remains of his soul would still recognize her and he'd love her regardless. But he could admit to being a little happy that it wasn't the case, that every last bit of her was still truly his Bella.

Various edibles were next. Boxes of granola bars, single serving packets of fruit, a large bag of trail mix and a few chocolate bars. He placed those items on the small coffee table in front of the couch.

"We weren't sure exactly what to get," Charlotte said, wringing her hands together. "I've never had to shop for a human before, so we got stuff that didn't require any cooking."

"And this?" Jasper asked, turning around with the water bottle in his hand. "I have a perfectly functional well."

It had already been on the property (managing to survive relatively unscathed all these years) but required a few updates, which included pipes to the house that connected to the more modern additions like the shower, the sinks in the bathroom and kitchen, the washer and... the toilet. He blamed the last one on the plumber who had done the installation and the weird look he had given Jasper when he said he didn't have one. Him and the electrician he had hired had been more out of a necessity than an actual want. If he could have done the whole house himself, he would of. But as good as Jasper was with his hands, he sadly had only a basic knowledge of what the _inside_ of the house required. Not wanting to screw and up (and it would be just his luck if the house burnt down thanks to faulty wiring) he had reluctantly sought outside help. At least the electrician had the decency to mind his own damn business.

Peter smirked. "Mmhm... and do you have glasses? Dishes of any kind?"

"No," Jasper replied sheepishly. It had been another thing he hadn't found necessary.

"It wouldn't have mattered if you did anyways. You really think that she'd accept a glass of water from you? At least this way she'll know the water hasn't been tampered with in any way."

"You think I'd tamper with her water?"

"Did I say that?" Peter asked casually, brushing a piece of lint off his dark blue pullover.

Jasper's hand clenched around the bottle, squeezing hard enough for the cap to pop off and water to gush over his hand. He had officially reached the end of his rope with Peter's blatant cockiness and the constant taunts in his words. If he was really as insistent as he said he was on being in Bella's life, than they were going to work this out. Now.

"Enough!" Jasper snarled lowly. "Peter, outside. _Now_. Charlotte, stay here." He dropped the bottle to the floor to rest in the small puddle surrounding his feet. "And do me a favor and wipe that up will you?"

He led Peter out the back door, giving the monument a wide berth. He was unable to even look in its direction now that the woman it was in memory of was currently lying in his bed. He heard, rather than saw Peter hesitate briefly. The few times he had been to the house as Jasper was putting the finishing touches on it, he hadn't come close to stepping into the backyard. He didn't blame him. The memories Peter had of this place were probably much more unforgiving than his own.

Once they had crossed the small field out back and were a reasonable distance from the house, completely surrounded by a dense area of trees, Jasper whirled on Peter. "If you have something you want to say to me, I suggest you say it now."

"I have _nothing_ to say to you," Peter spat.

"No? What is it you want than? Do you want to hit me?"

"I don't want to hit you," Peter replied, almost cheerily. The politeness of his words was suddenly belied by the foot that lashed out and connected solidly with Jasper's chest, sending him flying into a thick tree trunk and bringing the whole thing crashing down around him."I want to rip you apart."

Jasper's eyes darkened as he leapt to his feet, shaking off the leaves and splintered wood that covered his clothes. Bending his knees, he settled into a crouch digging his boots into the ground and curling his fingers. He tasted the venom pooling in his mouth and slicked his tongue over his teeth, coating the pearly whites in a thick layer of it. "Let's see what you got, soldier," he taunted, turning the playful words that usually preceded a mock battle between the two of them in the past into something darker and deadlier.

There was a brief hesitation on both of their parts, before twin snarls were released and they took a flying leap at each other.

And in the dark, dusty corners of their mind, neither cared if they made it out alive.

**-oo-**

The forest was still.

Silent.

Jasper glared at Peter from the opposite side of the clearing that hadn't been there when they first arrived, the obliterated remains of the trees that had once stood between them lying at their feet. He curled one hand around the small golden ring that had miraculously remained unharmed (things would have ended a lot differently if it had been damaged) and used the other to hastily wipe at the venom that seeped from the healing claw mark across his face. He allowed a brief moment of relief that Peter hadn't had the time to coat his fingers in his own venom (a trick he had learned from him and one that Jasper had learned from Maria) before attacking him, or it would have been permanent. He wasn't a vain person, with extensive scars like his it would be almost pointless, but he had always been grateful that he managed to escape the Wars with his face unmarred.

Peter was slightly worse off. His own clothing, like Jasper's, was torn and stained with his own venom. The promise to '_tear Jasper apart'_ had proven false and instead he was the one clutching his (now sleeveless) partially torn off left arm, holding it tightly to the socket and allowing the venom that was leaking from it to bond the two together again. He had the advantage on that part though; his wounds were healing a lot faster than Jasper's thanks to his different (and more frequent) diet.

A grim sort of pride swept through him at the state Peter was in. Though he had trained him, Peter had never been able to beat him, not once, and it seemed that, even after being away from battle all these years and adapting a relatively placid lifestyle, that still hadn't changed.

The urge to do further damage to him was large, but he ignored it. No words had been exchanged between the two of them during it and he just couldn't wait anymore. "All of this over one goddamn mistake?" he hissed lowly.

**-oo-**

Peter pressed harder on his shoulder, using the sudden stab of pain to break through the cloud of blood lust still swirling though his head. It proved to be a pointless endeavor because, when Jasper's words finally registered, he felt his anger rising again.

"One mistake? One goddamn mistake?!" Peter replied incredulously. "You think this is just about Bella, don't you?" He gaped at the sudden confusion on Jasper's face.

"What else is there?"

Peter's eyes hardened. "You selfish son of a bitch," he replied lowly. "You abandoned us! Walked out the door without so much as a by your-fucking-leave. It took you ten years, TEN years before you even told us where you were."

"But you must of-"

"What? Known?" Peter sneered.

Jasper's guilty look said enough. But there was something else in his eyes, something that made Peter realize that Jasper genuinely believed he hadn't done anything wrong. It wasn't unusual for Makers and their children, for lack of a better word, to part ways after proper training was given (some didn't even bother to wait that long abandoning them immediately after turning them- in those cases, the turning was usually accidental) or to separate for long periods of time. What made this different is that him, Charlotte and Jasper hadn't been simply a coven, they had been a family. Or so he had thought.

Peter scoffed. "And if I did, than what? It suddenly makes everything okay?"

"So you did know?"

"Yes... no..." His right hand tugged at his hair in frustration, before scrambling back down to hold up his left arm. "Just before you _left_," he spat the word, "I got the feeling someone was looking for you. No, I didn't know who at the time or even when you would find them, but it sure as hell wasn't _her_."

"How do you know that?"

"You're asking me that? Seriously?" At least Jasper looked like he realized the stupidity of the question. "Fine, just for shits and giggles, I'll bite. Because whoever it was, she was supposed to make us stronger, heal us and complete our _family_." Saying the word left a bitter taste in his mouth. "Considering that she-bitch had the opposite effect, I'd say it was pretty obvious." He glared at him and found it necessary to share something with him that he hadn't even told Charlotte. "I doubted my gift for years afterwards, do you know that? You were so adamant that she was the one that I seriously thought that maybe what I felt that day was wrong."

"Why didn't you just tell me?" Jasper asked helplessly.

"Tell you?" Peter sputtered angrily. "When? When we came home from a hunt and you were suddenly gone? When you didn't talk to us for ten years? In the four phone calls and zero visits in forty years? When?" he demanded.

"You could have-"

Peter laughed bitterly. "Could have what? Who's to say you would have even listened?"

"I might have if you had given me the chance," Jasper replied defensively.

"Bella would say differently," Peter countered darkly.

"That doesn't-"

"And what makes it worse is that I still don't know _why_. Not just for Bella, but for us too. After everything when went through, how could you turn your back on us so easily?"

Jasper opened his mouth to reply and Peter cut him off again.

"I don't want to hear that bullshit Alice excuse again. I get it, that bitch had your balls in a vice. But after what Maria did to you, how could you let another woman control you like that?"

"I didn't know she was controlling me," he replied softly. "I thought she was helping me. I thought I loved her."

"I remember you thought what you and Maria had was love too."

**-oo-**

Jasper gritted his teeth and looked away. He was angry, yet unable to deny the truth in Peter's words.

Maria had been the first person he saw when he woke up after the change, memories of everything but his name gone, her throaty and lightly accented voice promising him infamy and power beyond his wildest dreams. Confused and frightened, yet unable to deny the strength and hunger that thrummed through his veins and the seductive allure of her ruby-red eyes, he had immediately latched onto her, eventually mistaking his jumbled emotions for love. By the time he had realized differently, it was to late to truly do anything about it.

And then came Alice, his supposed _salvation_. But in the end, all he had done was replaced one master with another. The only difference being the subtlety with which she had exerted her control over him, replacing Maria's pain and cruelty with khaki pants and puppy dog eyes.

As he looked at his surroundings he was reminded of the sudden analogy, _'You can't see the forest for the trees'_. He chuckled bitterly at how fittingly it described his life since he met Alice. He was so desperate to hold onto the stability that she provided his life that he failed to see that she was using him as nothing more than a place card, molding him into the type of man her mate would eventually turn out to be.

The only ones who had ever truly accepted him had been the very two he had immediately pushed away the minute he had been given the chance, foolishly believing that their acceptance was somehow encouraging the lifestyle that he no longer wanted to live, but had unfortunately become accustomed to.

He had never told Alice this, but Peter had been the first one to suggest animal blood to him a year before he had left. He could see that pain that feeding from humans was causing him and, in the beginning, had resorted to stealing from the local blood banks just so Jasper wouldn't starve himself. And when he had started rejecting that, Peter, in a fit of frustrated anger, had screamed at him that he could, _"sink your teeth into a damn cat for all I care!" _Definitely not the most conventional way of suggesting an alternative, which was probably why he initially ignored it, but he had little doubt that if he _had_ stuck around it would have been brought up again more seriously and undoubtedly with their full support.

And all this time he had believed Alice when she said those two were a bad influence.

No wonder Peter hated him.

His voice was soft, pained, when he finally spoke. "I'm sorry, truly I am." He held up his hand when it looked like Peter was going to interrupt. "No, let me finish. I was wrong, both times, I admit this." He laughed bitterly. "And I'm a fool, because both times it took someone else for me to see it. I'm sorry it had to be the death of Bella the second time and you can be damn sure I will regret it for the rest of my very long life. So if you want to hate me for what happened after Alice, fine, I don't blame you. But don't hate me for the mistakes I made with Bella. You don't have to; I already hate myself enough for the both of us."

**-oo-**

Peter's shoulders slumped. He had to admit that hating Jasper for all these years, hell _decades_, had been incredibly draining. Especially when it was constantly battling with the memories of the Jasper he _used_ to know. The sire that had shielded him from Maria's insanity and kept his gift a secret so it couldn't be used for her gain, the same one who had suffered her wrath (in the form of 10 large claw marks dug into the skin of his back with fingernails coated in her venom) when he spared Charlotte and eventually allowed the two of them to escape.

That was the man he admired, the man that he came back for, the brother that he loved. He felt something in him loosen.

"You're right," he agreed.

Jasper turned stunned eyes to him, the barest hint of hope in them.

"This doesn't make us okay," Peter warned, cringing internally as the light in Jasper's eyes dimmed once again, replaced by the familiar look of defeat.

Jasper clenched his jaw and jerked his chin in a single nod. "I understand."

Peter held his left arm up, tentatively flexing it and furling and unfurling his fingers. It wasn't at a hundred percent yet, but the venom was definitely doing its work. He held his hand out to Jasper, placidly admiring the way it sparkled in the dying sunlight. Their fight had lasted longer than he thought. "I can't promise anything, but I'm willing to try."

Jasper hesitated, eyes darting from his face to his out-stretched hand. Peter nodded, confirming the sincerity of his words and Jasper's hand, darkened with dirt, clasped onto his own.

Peter held back a wince when Jasper squeezed his fingers a little harder than necessary. He didn't mind, he knew he wasn't doing it on purpose, like it was some sort of immature attempt to display dominance. No, he had a feeling it was something more than that. Something like a desperate need to hold onto the connection that was being made, as small and platonic as it may be. He realized that in the end, all Jasper really wanted was to be loved and accepted for who he truly was and not what he could be made into. He felt the anger dissipate a little more, replaced by pity.

Jasper snatched his hand back. "Don't pity me."

"I'll do what I damn well please!" Peter snapped. He blinked, and then smiled sheepishly. "Sorry, it's a bit instinctual at this point. Might take some time for me to stop doing that."

Jasper's lips upturned in a wry smile. "All we have is time, right?"

* * *

_**A/N2: So they've worked things out, somewhat. I'm sorry for anyone that feels this is too sudden, but I really can't keep writing these two hating each other. It's incredibly difficult and it's just about killing me. It was necessary for these two to be united, for Bella's sake, and now that she's back in their lives, I felt like it was a the right time to do it. **_

_**I already have the next chapter written (and have a pretty good idea how the next one after that is going to go) so hopefully I won't keep you waiting as long. Thanks again so much for your patience. **_


	12. Waking Up

**Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.**

_**A/N: Originally, you were going to get a look into Charlotte's mind but there was too many POV's going on in the same chapter, so I had to split it in two. So, now that'll be in the next one. No worries though, it's already finished. :)  
**_

* * *

"What happened?!" Charlotte gasped as the two plodded heavily through the door. She rushed to Peter's side, fluttering her hands over his torn clothes and lightly prodding at the silvery scar that circled the area between his shoulder and arm.

"Babe, I'm okay," Peter assured her hurriedly.

"What did you do?" Charlotte hissed, her protective mating instincts on full display as she turned to face Jasper, who took an uneasy step back.

Peter placed his hands firmly on her shoulders, bringing her around to face him. "I'm okay, Char," he repeated. "_We're_ okay."

"You are?" she asked softly.

He met Jasper's eyes quickly. "Maybe not completely, but we'll get there."

Charlotte collapsed heavily into Peter's arms and buried her face in the tattered remains of his shirt. "You better not be lying to me, Pete."

"I'm not, I promise."

"No more hate?"

"Well, maybe a little."

Jasper grinned when she gave his stomach a light love tap and Peter proceeded to over-exaggerate the pain she had caused him. It was almost like old times.

Charlotte pulled away and shared a silent conversation with Peter, to which he nodded. She broke free of his embrace and shyly approached Jasper. When she wrapped her arms around him in a hesitant hug, Jasper couldn't stop himself from tensing slightly. This was the first time he had been hugged in twenty years. She pulled back a little when he didn't immediately return it.

"Sorry," he muttered, wrapping his arms around her and awkwardly patting her on the back. "It's been awhile. I'm a little rusty."

"You're fine," Charlotte replied tenderly.

"Are you kidding? It looks like that super uncomfortable, two guys hugging I see from time to time."

Charlotte lifted her head and shot Peter an icy glare.

He shrugged. "What? I told you there was still gonna be a little hate."

Jasper chuckled. "No, he's right. Besides, if you remember, I've always been pretty terrible at it."

Charlotte nodded with a grin. "You used to fidget."

"I couldn't help it. Close contact amplified my gift."

She slipped out of his arms. "Right. Sorry about that, I'm probably giving off a lot of strong emotions right now."

She was. They were fainter than usual, but were mostly comprised of relief, joy and the barest hint of love. Jasper closed his eyes, giving himself a moment to bask in them. After all the negativity, not just from earlier, but from Peter in general these last few days, he was extremely grateful for the change. "It's fine. It's not exactly at full strength right at the moment."

"When's the last time you fed?" she asked in a mothering, no-nonsense tone.

"Right before we came back here, I-"

There was a dull thump from behind his bedroom door.

Charlotte turned panicked eyes to Jasper. "I heard her moving around a few minutes before you got back. I was hoping she'd go back to sleep."

Jasper cursed under his breath. He'd been so preoccupied with dealing with Peter, he hadn't thought of the repercussions of being so far from the house. The constant connection with Bella had been severed, and what he'd feared earlier was now coming true. She was awake.

Peter groaned. "I should have guessed. She wasn't sleeping on her own, was she?"

"I wasn't ready," Jasper blurted, a tinge of hysteria in his voice. He had spent hours after Peter and Charlotte left the other day practicing exactly what he was going to say to Bella when she woke up. Unfortunately it was _still_ the same jumbled mess of thoughts it had been when he'd been carrying her over the threshold of his home and consisted mostly of throwing subtlety out the window and hurling himself at her feet begging her to remember him. If he was honest with himself, he would have been quite content to keep her asleep for a couple of days. "Besides, it's not like she couldn't use the sleep."

"After what happened to her, I doubt she'd appreciate it." At the questioning look Jasper and Charlotte shot him, he clarified. "Nightmares."

"I kept her under to deep to have them," Jasper replied absently as he frowned in concentration, fully intending to put her back to sleep.

"Leave her be," Peter advised, as the sound of her first tentative steps across the hardwood floors met their ears. "It's only going to get worse the longer you put it off."

"Worse?" Jasper replied incredulously. "Considering what she's been through, and that's not even including what happened in the past, how can it possibly get any worse?" He cut off Peter's retort with a glare. "This isn't us simply telling someone, _'oh hey, your dog died'._ This is heavy stuff, that _neither_ of us are prepared for," he stressed as he tugged roughly at his hair. "Have you ever told the families of the people you've killed that they were dead before? I know I haven't."

In the beginning when he had been with Maria, he simply hadn't cared. And when he started to care a little _too_ much, it had been pointless; the people he had fed from during that period had been nothing more than faceless strangers. He wouldn't have been able to tell you their names, let alone whether they had family or not. Then, when had settled into life with the Cullen's and had, what they referred to as a _'slip up'_, he had run away like a coward, choosing to pretend that it hadn't happened or, in his most shameful moments, convincing himself that they were better off.

Peter and Charlotte stiffened. "That's not a fair comparison," he hissed. "We are not responsible for that woman's death and the people we feed from are little more than the dregs of society."

"That doesn't mean that they don't have somebody that will miss them, somebody that loves them and _nobody_ wants to hear that someone they love is dead. So unless you want to be the one to break that news, I suggest you give me a little slack for wanting to put off telling her that her mother is-"

His words cut off as the three pivoted to face the door when it creaked open.

**-oo-**

Bella's eyes blinked open, their movement hampered slightly by the gummy-like consistency of her eyelashes. Though she didn't remember crying, the burning sensation that stung through her eyes when she finally got them open said differently. Wherever she was it was dark, but the absence of light didn't stop the pain (the equivalent of a screwdriver being jammed into her temple) from screaming through her brain.

Her hands jerked up to cradle her head and she inhaled sharply at the pain the sudden movement caused. The quick inhalation of air turned into a ragged cough thanks to the parched feeling in her throat. She smacked her lips, wincing at the fuzzy taste of her tongue and wondered how long she had been asleep.

She did her best to work up some spit, swishing the miniscule amount around in her mouth in an effort to get rid of the sandpapery feeling of it. At the same time she inhaled shakily through her nose, rubbing the tips of her fingers in a counter-clockwise motion over her temples until the pain in her head eased to a dull roar.

Unfortunately the pain abating banished the cobwebs from her mind and the events of last night (or possibly even longer- Bella had no concept of time at the moment) slammed into her. Moisture prickled her eyes and stung as the abused tear ducts protested and refused to produce enough to fall.

"Mommy..." she whimpered as she curled into herself. She closed her eyes tightly as the choppy memories from that night began to replay in her head. She had no illusions about what happened; her mother was dead. She had no one know. She was alone.

Bella allowed herself to get lost in the numbness that came with the realization, curling her body deeper until her forehead touched her kneecaps. There was a small silver lining in the dark haze of her thoughts and despite her inner turmoil, she felt strangely at ease. Because regardless of what had happened; at least she was somewhere safe, somewhere familiar.

_My bedroom,_ was her first thought, and really the only plausible place she could be.

She relaxed slightly, turning on her back and feeling the dim hope that maybe it was all a dream. That the ones she'd been having suddenly took a turn for the worse as some sort punishment for continually ignoring them and not taking the time to understand what they meant.

Her hands spread out on the comforter of what was obviously a bed beneath her and she froze when her fingers came in contact with the slightly grainy fabric, absent of the silk leaf-shaped patches that decorated her own.

Her eyes snapped open and she stubbornly ignored the pain as she stared up at the ceiling. Instead of seeing the comforting glow of a hundred glow in the dark stars (a childhood fancy that had carried over into adolescence) that decorated the ceiling of the bedroom in her apartment, it was as dark as the rest of the room.

That nixed her old room in Phoenix (on the off, and unlikely, chance that Phil had somehow come to her rescue) as well, since it probably contained twice as many stars as her new room. Her dad had always found it amusing that, even though she had outgrown the childishly bright lavender paint that covered her bedroom walls, she had still held onto the stars that were pasted on them. She never had a particular reason for why she was so attached to the stars, at least not one she could put into words. Something about the night sky put her more at ease then even the most beautiful, sunniest day ever could.

She heard a door opening from somewhere in the house, followed by the low murmurs of conversation (her eyes widening when she registered more than one voice) and her mind frantically tried to suss out where she could be and came up blank. She didn't know anyone in this town, certainly not enough for them to feel obligated to take her home.

_The red-eyed guy._

Terror froze the blood in her veins at the wayward thought and she began to hyperventilate, her hands clenching and unclenching in fear. That movement, along with the memory of curling up moments earlier, drives home the fact that she still had full mobility (she once again spreads out her hands and lifts her feet to confirm this) and aren't bound in any way. The realization calms Bella enough for her to think rationally.

She may not know why exactly, but she didn't doubt for a single second that whoever (or whatever) the red-eyed guy was, he fully meant to kill her in that parking lot that night. And even if, and that was a _very_ big if, he brought her somewhere to 'finish her off', she doubted very much he'd have the decency to, not only leave her untied, but (now that her eyes were adjusting slightly to the dark) put her in a bedroom on a comfortable bed. No, he seemed more like the clichéd abandoned factory, dirty floor type.

_I'm sorry mom,_ Bella thought as she pushed away the memories of her death and attempted to piece together what had happened afterwards. All she remembered was running, screaming, falling, than... nothing. She thinks she might of ran into someone, but when she tries to bring to mind his face, all she can see is the stars over his shoulder.

She has a feeling it was a man though, because she recalls that the last thought through her mind before she blacked out had been, _I'm safe, he'll protect me._ Her brow furrowed as she concentrated harder on exactly who 'he' was, but all she succeeded in doing was causing her headache to flare up again.

Frustrated at being in the dark, both figuratively and literally, Bella reached out blindly towards the right side of the bed, hoping that whoever owned this room had equipped it with a lamp. Her prayers were answered, but unfortunately she was a little too enthusiastic with the hand waving and ended up knocking it off of whatever stand it was sitting on. She held her breath as it toppled to the ground, landing with a heavy thunk, but thankfully not shattering.

Deciding to leave it where it lie, she shifted on the bed and eyed the door. There was a faint light seeping in around the door frame and the conversation that she had heard on the other side had come to an abrupt halt. Any hope that she had of possibly sneaking out a window (she could just make out the barest sliver of moonlight peeking through a heavy curtain on the other side of the room) was dashed now that whoever was out there knew without a doubt that she was awake.

Bella tensed and stared hard at the door, waiting for someone to walk through it and contemplating on whether to lean over for the lamp that was currently on the floor and using it as some sort of weapon. She frowned when it remained closed and the conversation began again. She couldn't make out exactly what they were saying, but there was a definite note of panic in one of the vaguely masculine voices.

That tone, as opposed to anger, bolstered her confidence (or maybe it was the belief that with her mother gone she had nothing left to lose) enough to swing her aching legs over the bed and hesitantly stand. As if testing the water in a pool, she touched her feet lightly to the floor a few times, applying a little more pressure each time. Deciding that they were strong enough to support her, she stood a little quicker than she should of, immediately losing her balance and almost tumbling back down on the bed. Bracing one arm against what she thinks is another bedside stand, she takes a long moment to regain her equilibrium, before finally taking her first few tentative steps towards the door. The progress is slow, thanks to the fact that her legs wobbled like a newborn colt the entire way, but she managed to make it the entire way without tripping, steading herself completely as she drew closer to it.

Pressing her ear against the cool wood, she slid her trembling hand around the chilled brass knob and turned it enough that it became obvious that the door wasn't locked. Hearing that same voice, of what now clearly belonged to a man, rising on the other side; she twisted the door knob the rest of the way. Stepping back as she pulled it opened she cut him off mid-sentence.

"-for wanting to put off telling her that her mother is-"

Had Bella not been teetering precariously on the edge of a full mental breakdown, she would have laughed uproariously at the look on the faces of the three people currently staring dumbfounded at her. She didn't recognize the male and the female off to the side staring at her like they were witnessing a miracle, but the man directly across from her line of sight was the same one she had spent the last few days obsessing over.

She decided to finish what he was obviously going to say. "She's dead, isn't she?" she asked flatly, feeling a strange sense of déjà-vu as the words passed her lips. Like she had already asked a similar question before.

_"They're really dead, aren't they cowboy?" _The question echoed through her head, the nuances eerily similar to her own voice, but with a lazy drawl to them, thickened by sadness.

She began blinking rapidly as a tanned face with tear misted blue eyes superimposed itself on the pale features of the man in front of her, his dirty torn clothes and scuffed motorcycle boots replaced by a faded tan button up shirt, dark brown pants and dusty cowboy boots. The differences were subtle, mainly in the color of his skin and eyes, but there was no mistaking that this was somehow the same man. The other two people disappeared as the background blurred and transformed into the field from her dream- the tree with the, what looked to be freshly carved, initials directly behind him.

_"I'm sorry darlin', they are."_ "I'm sorry, she is." Their lips moved at the same time, their voices (again with subtle differences) overlapping.

Bella gave her head a quick shake and the vision faded rapidly, replaced once again by a living room and a messy, sad golden-eyed man standing in the middle of it.

Overwhelmed by not only having her mother's death confirmed, but by seeing aspects of her dream, while she was _awake_, she felt the blood rush to her head swiftly followed by a powerful wave of dizziness. She teetered slightly on her feet as her lashes fluttered and her hand rose to her forehead as she tried to fight off the light-headed feeling.

"Wha-" She didn't get to finish the question before for her knees folded and she pitched forward.

The last thing she saw before she blacked out was the blond man darting forward quicker than she thought humanly possible. And, just like that terrible night, the same thought echoed in her head.

_I'm safe, he'll protect me._


	13. We Won't Repeat It

******Disclaimer: ****All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.**

_**A/N: I so badly wish I could up my word count for you guys, but I think there's a certain point (at least with my chapters) where I am in danger of entering rambly territory. **_

_**Charlotte actually turned out to be an interesting POV to tackle, and I was really surprised about where her thoughts took me. Turns out she wasn't as neutral about the whole situation as I originally thought she was. **_

* * *

"What the hell did you do that for? I thought I told you to leave her be?"

Peter stared down at the crumpled form being cradled in Jasper's arms. He was a firm advocate of _'I won't believe it till I see it'_ (perhaps a foolish frame of mind for a creature that didn't technically exist) and even though he was seeing it, he still couldn't believe his eyes.

Jasper had been right. Although the girl had been an absolute mess, tangled hair, reddened eyes and ruddy cheeks, she still looked exactly the same. Bella was still, well, Bella. He felt Charlotte squeeze his hand enough to almost shatter it and knew that she must be in a similar state of shock.

Lost in the hurt from the way Bella's eyes had immediately dismissed him and Charlotte, he had almost missed the way she had paled and began twitching when she was looking at Jasper. Concerned, he had been about to speak up (though he was certain it wouldn't have done much good) when her eyes had rolled up and she had fainted. Judging by the guilty look on his face as he darted forward, Peter suspected Jasper had something to do with it.

Jasper blinked at the question and Peter almost snorted at the bewildered look on his face. "I panicked?" he asked hesitantly, as if unsure of the reason himself.

"You can't keep her asleep forever, Jasper."

**-oo-**

Jasper looked down into Bella's face, his heart twinging at her pale skin and the dark circles under her eyes. It didn't change anything; she was still the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Tearing his eyes away, he looked up at Peter.

"I know. It's just until I figure out what to say to her."

"Well, you've already confirmed her mother was dead, it's not like you can take it back."

Jasper glared at him. "I hadn't planned on it." He sighed heavily and gathered her warm body into his arms, once again relishing her nearness. He had been so caught up in the badness of that night, that he hadn't really given himself a chance to appreciate her before. His breath hitched as he pressed his nose in her tangled hair, rooting deeply for her unique scent. It was almost completely covered by the acidic scent of her fear and the disgusting smell of the vampire who attacked her.

He hadn't felt comfortable enough to change her out of his clothes, (a part of him afraid of the reaction he'd get if she woke up in the middle of it) but knew he couldn't leave her in them for much longer. Simply the scent of another vampire on her was causing the venom in his veins to boil and he struggled with the urge to rip them off her. As reluctant as he was to add another vampire scent to the one already on her, he made a mental note to ask Charlotte to do it before she left.

As for the actual telling though...

"Just let me do this part alone. That's all I ask."

Peter opened his mouth to undoubtedly protest.

"I'm not going to keep her from you," he promised wearily. "I told you that, remember? But you saw her face and, I'm not saying this to hurt you, she didn't recognize you, either of you. At all." At the look Peter shot him he could pretty much guess what he was thinking. "And yes, you're right, somewhat. I didn't make the best first impression on her either, but at least there's some level of familiarity there."

"I don't know," Peter replied dubiously. "She didn't exactly look happy to see you."

"That's why I want you to promise me something."

He cocked his head. "What?"

"If at any point she decides she hates me," his voice choked up, "or that...that she never wants to see me again, that you and Charlotte will take care of her. If it's as a friend, or even on the sidelines, just make sure she stays safe."

"You plan on telling her everything? All at once?" he asked.

Jasper shook his head. "No. But eventually I'll have too."

"And you'd stay away from her if she asked you too?"

Jasper nodded sharply at Charlotte's question. "I'd do anything for her. After the hell I put her through, she deserves that much at least." He now understood the frame of mind Bella was in when she stepped in that fire. If she rejected him, nothing would stop him from-

A firm hand clamped down hard on his shoulder. "Whatever you're thinking, stop," Peter warned lowly.

"I'll think whatever I damn well please." Jasper's lips quirked in a small smirk as he basically repeated what Peter had said to him in the woods earlier. His face grew serious. "Just promise me."

Peter's jaw clenched. "She made me promise her too."

"Guess it really proves history is repeating itself," Jasper quipped half-heartedly, wincing when the joke fell flat.

"You're an asswipe, you know that?"

"I do."

"Fine, I promise. But I can't go through anything like that again. I won't help, not this time. And if you even try, I _will_ stop you."

_You can try_, Jasper thought caustically. _Wow. Somebody actually makes the effort to care for the first time in a very long while and I react like that? I __**am**__ an asswipe. _

"Agreed."

Peter seemed to sense his internal monologue, shooting him a warning look before nodding in agreement. "Good." He stared down at Bella, seemingly reluctant to leave before lightly touching Charlotte's (who seemed just as spellbound) shoulder. "C'mon, Char," he urged, giving that same shoulder a gentle shove.

Charlotte nodded dazedly and followed him towards the door.

"Wait!" Jasper called.

Both of them paused and turned to face him. He stood, looping his arm under Bella's leg and shifted her until she was cradled bridal style in his arms.

"I was wond-" his voice cracked with emotion and venom misted his eyes when Bella sighed lightly and buried her face in his neck. He cleared his throat and started over again. "I want to get her out of these clothes." He paused. "Okay, that didn't quite come out the way I wanted to." A small smile tilted his lips when Peter chuckled. "She's been in them for almost two days now and they're filthy. I didn't change them myself because it didn't feel right. So, will you do it for me Charlotte?"

"Of course," she agreed, squeezing Peter's arm.

She paused briefly by the couch, slinging a pair of the cotton pants and a t-shirt over her shoulder before moving to take Bella from him. He snarled instinctively when she touched Bella and she snatched her hand back.

"Sorry," he murmured sheepishly, motioning for her to hold her arms out and passing Bella's limp body over.

"It's alright," she said, shifting Bella gently in her arms as Peter approached them hesitantly from the side.

"Can I just...?" he asked Jasper beseechingly.

Unable to deny the open vulnerability in his face, Jasper nodded, this time suppressing his growl when Peter lightly touched her face.

"She's really real," he whispered, awe coloring his voice.

"I still can't believe it myself," Jasper replied lowly.

Peter dropped his arm and stepped aside to allow Charlotte to pass, eyes trailing her as she walked into Jasper's bedroom and nudged the door shut behind her.

"C'mon," Jasper said to Peter, eying the pathetic state of his clothes. "I think I might have a shirt that will fit."

**-oo-**

Charlotte shut the door softly behind her, a gentle smile on her face at the camaraderie between her mate and her maker on the other side of it. They were baby steps, yes, but at least they were being made and she felt relief rush through her.

It had been difficult to hate Jasper with the same vehemence Peter had and in the years they had been separated, she had often contemplated going behind her mate's back to contact him. The only thing that had stopped her was the belief, that despite their mating bond, Peter would have seriously contemplated leaving her if she had. What had happened with Jasper was proof enough that he didn't handle betrayal very well.

While Peter had been bitter that Jasper had abandoned them, she had, in some ways, understood why he'd done it. While her and Peter considered any life away from Maria's tyranny to be a better one, Jasper hadn't been able to fully escape the part of his past that he desperately wanted to- feeding from humans. Her and Peter had no problem switching from innocents to the scum of society, but Jasper always saw it differently. Good or bad, innocent or guilty, a life was still a life and he had already taken too many.

Jasper would say this many times over the years, often shrugging off the invites to hunt, but all Peter had seen was his maker starving himself and hadn't always reacted in the best ways. It wasn't his fault though. They had both been at a loss about what to do to help a vampire that refused his natural food source and even though they had tried their best, they hadn't been able to offer Jasper what he truly needed, at least not at the time. So it shouldn't have been that surprising that he had found somebody that could.

When Peter had found out that he had taken up with a group of 'veggie vamps', he had scoffed and mocked their feeding habits quite a few times over the years. Charlotte had wondered after that if her and Peter would have had the same strength to make the same drastic lifestyle changes for Jasper's sake. She had secretly tried animal blood once and when half of it ended up on the ground after she forcefully spit it out, she had been ashamed to admit that the answer had been a firm no.

But if they had been given time to adjust, if they had learned together, who knows? She liked to think they would have.

Charlotte paused by the bed and stared down at it, deciding that if Bella's clothes were in bad shape, chances were that they rubbed off on Jasper's sheets. As reluctant as she was to do it, she eased Bella down onto the floor and stood. She looked towards Jasper's bedside table, frowning when she didn't notice a lamp. In every house they had ever lived at when Jasper was with them, he always had a lamp beside his bed because that's where he liked to read.

Remembering the thump from earlier, she circled the bed, chuckling when she saw the lamp on the floor. Setting it upright on the table, she flicked it on, filling the room with a soft amber glow. The light was probably too dim for a human to read the words off a page, but for a vampire, any brighter and it would hurt their sensitive eyes.

She inspected the sheets with a critical eye, noting that they were mussed and had smudges of dirt on them. Stripping them from the bed, she balled them up and tossed them in the corner nearest to the door to Jasper's closet next to his bed, she crossed her fingers that he would have a spare set. As luck would have it, she found an entire bed set crammed in the back still in its protective packaging and spotting the yellow sale sticker in the corner of the bag suspected it was bought merely on a whim.

Injecting a little vampire speed, she had the crisp green bed sheets spread out on the bed within seconds, doing her best to work as silently as possible and not disturb Bella who was beginning to shift uncomfortably on the floor.

Kneeling beside her, she smoothed a hand over her clammy forehead, humming a nonsensical tune under her breath. It seemed to be enough to settle her down slightly, allowing her to swiftly remove her clothes with the least amount of jostling possible. Charlotte silently thanked the person who had invented button down shirts.

She hesitated with her undergarments before deciding they looked clean enough to last until Bella had the initiative to change them herself.

Lifting her up, she placed her softly on the bed and then crossed the room to the connecting bathroom. Jasper didn't appear to have any washcloths (though he did have a toilet, she noted bemusedly and made a mental note to ask him about it) so she offered a silent apology and tore one of his towels in half. Taking the smallest portion of the grainy fabric, she held it under a running tap hoping that the temperature was warm enough. Thanks to their permanently chilled skin, the difference between hot and cold never really registered.

Wringing out the excess water, she returned to the room and stood by the bed, taking a moment to stare down at the girl who looked tiny in Jasper's king sized bed and as pale as her vampire counterpart next to the darkness of the new sheets.

She hadn't been lying to Peter when she said that she had mourned Bella, but what she hadn't told him was that there had been a few times in those twenty years that she had come very close to hating her as well.

During that first year after her death, Peter had pulled away from her significantly, giving into brooding and long periods of silence. She had been angry and, if she was honest with herself, a little jealous of the small piece of him that Bella had taken with her when she died. A piece that Charlotte knew she would never be able to touch. And of the large part she had taken of her maker, who, no matter the distance and the time or how furious her mate had been, she stilled cared for very deeply.

Looking down at the vulnerable girl, she felt shame build up in her for cursing a girl that had suffered so much. Who had to go through the pain of losing everyone she loved twice- whether she knew it or not- and whose only crime was loving a man who didn't remember her.

Charlotte remembered her own connection she had made to Peter when she had awoke in that terrible camp of blood, pain and horror. He had been her calm in the storm, her very reason for fighting and without him; she would have easily allowed one of the other newborns to tear her apart if only to escape the darkness that her life had become.

How could she truly hate someone who had done the same?

Sitting down beside Bella, she tenderly began to wipe the smudges of dirt and dried tear tracks off her face, keeping up the low humming that had soothed her earlier.

Like Jasper and Peter, she wondered what would happen now. If she ever got her memories back, Charlotte knew that Bella had more than enough reasons to hate them all for the parts they had played in the final days of her life. Peter's act may have been one of mercy, but would she see it as that? Or would she be bitter that he hadn't put up more of a fight to keep her alive?

_And that's even if she remembered,_ Charlotte thought, running the cloth down her arms and then over the bare skin of her stomach and upper chest. Though, like the boys, she had the barest inkling that it wouldn't be the case.

She knew her mate had been too wounded by Bella's indifference towards him to really pay attention to what had happened in that living room. There had been a strange look in her eyes when she had looked Jasper. A sheen to them that was similar to the glazed look Peter's own eyes got when he was remembering the past. The downside to that had been that she was obviously very unnerved by whatever she saw and considering this girl's past, it really could have been anything.

Finishing off with her legs, Charlotte set aside the soiled rag and waited a moment to give a chance for the moisture on her body to air dry. She put the pants on her first, the soft cottony fabric sliding up easily over her legs and fitting snugly against the curves of her hips. She frowned down at the shirt and briefly considered grabbing one the button down shirts from Jasper's closet. Deciding the scratchy fabric wouldn't be conducive to sleeping; she placed her hand behind Bella's head and tilted her body up enough to slip the loose t-shirt over her head.

Cautiously completing the task, she placed Bella's head back down on the pillow. Her fingers snagged in her hair when she removed her hand and eying the mussed brown locks, she made a mental note to grab the brush buried at the bottom of the bag she had brought Jasper and put in on the table beside her. She'd brush it herself, but judging from the tangles in her hair a lot of less than gentle tugging would definitely be required. As she slipped her arms through the sleeves of the shirt, she began to make a mental list of some other items Bella would need.

Bella released a faint whimper as she sat her arm down, and drew Charlotte's attention to her lips. She added a toothbrush and toothpaste to the list. While she'd had enough foresight to stick a brush in the bag, other toiletries hadn't really registered with her. Like she had told Jasper, she'd never shopped for a human before. And being a vampire, she didn't have to deal with human things like brushing your teeth, sweating, or shaving her legs anymore. She'd be sure to rush out as soon as she was done doing this and find a twenty-four hour store to purchase the items so Bella would have them the next time she woke up. It would be pointless to ask Jasper to do it. He was already kicking himself for leaving her the last time.

Standing, she surveyed her work and, with a faint nod decided that, while not completely clean, it was the best she could do under the circumstances. Pulling the covers up tight around Bella, a gentle smile touched her lips at the almost mothering affection that warmed through her at the action. She may be unsure of what would come tomorrow, but in that moment all Charlotte could feel was hope.

Clicking off the lamp, Jasper's words echoed through her head as she turned towards the door.

_History really is repeating itself._

Casting one final look at Bella she silently promised her that the three of them would prove those words wrong. They wouldn't repeat it.

They'd rewrite it.

* * *

_**A/N2: You're probably all starting to get a little impatient now... I'll admit that in the beginning these chapters were merely written so I could delay Bella really waking up, mainly because I didn't know what to do about her and Jasper. But that's all settled and I'm working on the next chapter us we speak... uh, type.**_


	14. Dream a Little Dream

**Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.**

_**A/N: This is my latest chapter yet... if this was a library book, I would owe like a million dollars in late fees, I realize this.**_

**_This chapter has been re-written a dozen times, and I only wish I was exaggerating the amount. It was incredibly difficult to get the conversation right and I struggled if I was making the right decision. Some of you may not agree with what I've done in it, but I found it became a necessary occurrence in order to (begin to) bridge the past and the present. Or else Bella would simply go on ignoring it forever._ **

* * *

Bella found herself once again in her dream world, this time feeling strangely ticked.

She didn't know how or why, but she had the feeling that the blond man in the living room had been responsible for her passing out, in a way that had nothing to do with the conformation of her mother's death or the way her mind was playing tricks on her.

So caught up in her anger, she didn't immediately register that there was something very different about her usual surroundings. The field was still the same, but the tree was missing. Instead, in its place, was a plain two story house that reminded her a little of the houses that were in what was considered the Historic Section right here in Galveston that she had driven through once. It was a single street where a handful of houses, built as early as the late 1800's still stood, all of them spiffed up by their owners, but still in tune with their original appearance. She had only seen them a handful of times (that road was the quickest way to the mall) in passing, but knew for certain that the house she was now looking at wasn't one of them. This one hadn't been shined up in any way, but despite its plainness, the structure was still sturdy and clearly well maintained.

Then, like a computer glitch, it was replaced briefly by another house- one that was very familiar. The bright yellow of its siding (a color her mother her fought her father tooth and nail to paint) glowing in the late afternoon sunlight. It was her house back in Phoenix, the one she had affectionately dubbed 'Big Bird'.

Every time she blinked, the house was different- _plain, yellow, plain, yellow_- until eventually the house disappeared altogether with little more than a soft sigh. The only indication that they had even been there was the front door that was still hovering in the field.

Unnerved a bit by a door seemingly suspended in the middle of an otherwise empty clearing (reminding her a little too much of a scene in a horror movie her mother favored), Bella struggled with the urge to both step towards it and take a step back.

The decision was taken out of her hands as she watched the silver know twist as the door creaked open. Whispers of conversation and a faint sound, like laughter, floated out from the wide crack and with it came the sudden visage of the tree. It literally sprung up from the ground behind the door fully grown, making it look as if the door was now embedded _in_ the tree, as a figure stepped outside. She shielded her eyes from the sun before being bathed in shade from the leafy branches overhead. A smile lit up her face when she spotted Bella.

"Oh good, you're here!" she exclaimed.

"I'm here?" Bella choked out. "What are you doing here?" She was almost as stunned by the sight of her mother as she was by what she had on. "And what the hell are you wearing?"

Her mother usually heavily favored printed, breezy fabrics and jeans or peasant skirts, often declaring herself a perma-hippie, but the dress she wore now was plain, in a pale blue color and very matronly in its cut and style. It reminded Bella a lot of this settlement place she'd visited on a school trip once when she'd been younger, where they faithfully re-enacted the olden days (right up to the clothes they wore). All her mother needed was a bonnet over her auburn hair and she'd blend right in.

Her mother looked down at the fabric, like it wasn't out of the ordinary for her to be wearing it. "This?" she asked, smoothing her hand over the high cut collar. "I found it in there." She pointed over her shoulder towards the door. "I found a lot of stuff in there." She waved her hand dismissively. "But that's not important, I'm so glad you're finally here. We didn't think he'd ever let up enough for you to dream."

There were so many questions in that sentence, Bella wasn't sure which one to address first. "We?" she decided.

It wasn't answered by her mother, but by the door creaking open a second time.

"Daddy?" she whispered when the second person came into view.

His lips tilted in that familiar half smile that was reserved strictly for Bella and her mother. "Hey, Pic."

The nickname passing his lips caused tears to spring to her eyes. He looked exactly like she remembered. Short dark hair, impeccably groomed mustache, pressed beige button up shirt, dark jeans and shiny black boots. The only thing that was remotely out of place was the badge pinned gamely to his breast pocket. While she recognized the badge as being his own, she had never seen him wear it without his uniform. She had a feeling it was there as nothing more than a comforting familiarity.

He spread his arms and Bella didn't hesitate to run into them, burying her face in his chest and heavily breathing in the comforting scent of cedar.

"Miss me?" he asked softly.

Bella chuckled wetly. _Miss him? _she thought, clutching him tighter. That was like suffocating someone for a few agonizing seconds than asking them if they missed air.

"Why are you here?" she choked out on a sob.

Her father pulled back and brushed the tears away from her cheeks like he'd done when she was a child. "We're here for you, Pic."

She hitched in a breath. "Am I dead?" It was entirely possible that when she fainted she had smacked her head and that those three people in the living room had watched as she bled out on the floor.

Her mother laughed, stepping up beside them and combing her cool fingers through Bella's hair. "Of course not, silly."

Bella didn't know whether to be relieved or saddened by this news. She decided to play it safe and go with sarcasm instead, if only to allow her a minute to gather her bearings. "Great. So I'm not dead, I'm just crazy."

He father huffed out a gruff laugh. "There's the Bella I remember," he said fondly. His face grew serious. "We're here to tell you to stop running."

Bella stiffened and stepped back, crossing her arms over her chest, frowning when a glint of gold caught her eye and she noticed that her father's badge had been replaced with a star, something etched into it, but the letters to faint to read. _Wasn't that just a... _She gave her head a shake and it was his regular badge again. "I'm not running from anything."

Her mother placed a hand on her shoulder. "That's all you've been doing for years."

Bella jerked away from her hand. "Oh yeah? Then why don't you tell me what I'm running from exactly."

Her father looked at her knowingly. "I think you already know what we're talking about."

He couldn't be talking about that, could he? How did he even know? "But they're just dreams!"

"Are they?" he asked. "If you really believed that, why did you move here? You told me a few years ago you planned to go to Washington University, my alma mater. Why the change of heart?"

"My teacher," Bella insisted stubbornly.

Her father shook his head sadly. "I was always amused by your tenacity, Pic, even proud of it most days, but you can't keep doing this to yourself. Not anymore. You took such a big step by moving here, why'd you stop?"

"What's so important about being here?" she yelled. "And if it's so damned _important, _why the hell didn't you tell me earlier? You've been dead for _two years_ and you," she whirled towards her mother, "two days!" she spat and then immediately slapped her hands over her mouth as the callous words escaped her lips. "Oh my god," she choked out. "Mom... dad...I didn't... I'm so sorry."

"It's alright Bells," her mother whispered softly. "We wish we could of told you sooner, but we couldn't."

Her father approached her mother's side and laced his fingers with hers. "We didn't know before," he explained. "The pieces weren't in place."

"And now?" Bella asked expectantly, looking between the two of them.

"And now they are," her mother replied simply.

"Quit being so vague!" Bella cried. "Just tell me!"

"We're not doing this on purpose, Pic," her father replied calmly. "You have to understand that we're not the ones you have to ask. We don't know everything; it's only _our_ pieces that are in place."

Bella was growing increasingly frustrated. She didn't know it was possible, but this was quickly turning out to be even vaguer than her other dreams. "Who exactly do I have to ask? And what do you mean pieces?"

"Our memories," he said, completely ignoring her first question.

"Is that what that is?" she asked, pointing at the door that was still behind them. "The door to your memories?"

"No," he hesitated. "They're yours, Bella."

Dread froze the blood in her veins. "My memories of what?" she whispered.

"Before."

"Before what?" Her hands tangled in her pair, pulling roughly at the strands when they remained silent. "You were just strolling around in there, tell me!" she demanded frantically.

Her mother took a step forward and cupped Bella's cheek. "We can't, Bells," she said sadly. "We can only talk about the ones _we_ were a part of, with the others we could only observe."

"Then tell me something about the ones you were a part of!"

The door Bella belatedly realized had been cracked open since her father had stepped through it, suddenly slammed shut, the sound causing her dream world to shudder, as it seemingly absorbed the tree back in it until there was nothing but empty field behind it.

"What's happening?" she gasped out.

"Our memories, the important ones, are too firmly entwined with yours, Bella and right now they are bound by that door. So until it is fully open, there is nothing we can say."

"Then why bother with all of this?" she asked angrily. "Are you just here to tease me? Punish me? What?"

"Steps," her father said. "You can't do Step Three without doing Step Two first."

"What the hell does that mean?" she half-screamed. "You have to tell me something!" she grasped quickly for something she wanted the answers to the most. "The dreams," she begged.

"They're not just dreams," her mother confirmed. "But to begin to understand them, you have to ask the right person the right questions."

"Who's the right person?"

"Someone who was there," she whispered softly.

Bella darted her eyes between her parents and the door at their backs. "I can't wait that long!" she cried, dodging around their arms.

Her feet swiftly ate up the short distance and she wrapped her hands firmly around the warm metal of the knob. She pulled firmly once, than began tugging more erratically when it refused to budge. She sobbed, pressing her ear to the door and straining to make out the whispers she could hear on the other side.

A heavy hand fell on her shoulder. "It's locked," her father said stoically.

"But why?" she choked out, soaking the grains of wood with her salty tears. She was so close to having ten years worth of confusing dreams explained, so close to understanding why she felt like something had been missing from her life.

The same hand turned her around and drew her back into the warmth of his embrace. "It's been cracked open the smallest bit for years."

"The dreams," she murmured against the scratchy fabric of his shirt.

She felt him nod against her head. "That's why they were so vague. They were meant to make you curious, to make you dig deeper. But you kept pushing it closed, Pic. Your denial locked it."

"I didn't mean too!" she cried. She felt numbness sweep through her. "I was right, I am being punished."

Her father shushed her, shifting her face away so he could cup her ruddy cheeks. "You're not being punished for being scared and confused, Bella. Don't blame yourself for that. Anyone in your position would be."

She attempted a smile. "You wouldn't be."

He chuckled. "If I had gotten them while I was alive, you bet your ass I would have been. Especially if they came to me like yours did." He brushed a strand of her hair out of her face.

"Why did they have to be like that?"

"Do you think you would have been more accepting if everything hit you at once?"

She shrugged. "It would have been a lot less stressful, I think."

He looked behind her pensively. "No, I don't think it would. That door holds a lot, Pic. More than you can even imagine. I think it only gave you what it did because it could have hurt you to get it all at once."

Bella was reminded of that old movie, The Butterfly Effect in which the lead character went back in time to change his past, and every time he came back to his present, his brain practically dribbled out of his ears as it attempted to catch him up with everything he'd experienced in his altered past. She supposed she'd take rocks, trees and flowers over aneurysms any day.

"Is it going to stay shut forever now?"

"A door can't stay shut forever, Pic. You just need to remember that every lock has a key."

"Do you have it?" she asked hopefully.

He shook his head. "It's not a key you can see, not one I can just give you."

Her shoulders slumped. "What is it then?"

"Acceptance and forgiveness."

"Well, who am I supposed to forgive?"

"When it's time, you'll know."

Bella huffed and stepped back. "Is this what happens when you die? You get all mysterious and start sprouting off Yoda like advice?"

Her father smirked. "One of the perks, it is."

Bella sputtered out a laugh, surprised she could even still feel humor after all the emotional upheaval. She frowned when she felt the air ripple around her and the edges of her dream world started to fade.

"What's going on?" she panicked.

"You're waking up," her mother explained, taking her place back beside her father and, for the first time since he died, looking happy and completely at peace.

"Will I see you again?" she asked softly.

"Anything is possible." Her mother grinned. She approached Bella and gathered her tightly in her arms. "I want you to promise me something, sweetheart."

"Anything," Bella breathed into the soft skin of her neck.

"Don't let my death stop you from opening up, from moving forward, from taking chances. From _listening_." She pulled back and cradled the back of Bella's head, tears glistening in her hazel eyes. "Me and Charlie were so blessed. We got to have an amazing and wonderful daughter twice." She kissed her forehead softly. "At least it was for a little longer this time."

Bella's eyes widened. "Twice?" she gasped. _Does that mean what I think it does? It couldn't... could it? _

Her mother's words repeated in her head. _'Anything is possible.'_

Her mother smiled secretly. "I love you, Bella. Everything will make sense as long as you keep your promise."

"I love you too, mom. And I promise."

Her father was next, pressing a kiss to the crown of her head. 'Stay strong, Pic. It's gonna be a bumpy ride. I wish I could prepare you more for it, but it's not my place, not yet. Just remember two important things kiddo, truth is stranger than fiction and in the end, it's up to you to decide on whether or not it's worth it."

The dream shimmered, her parents fading more with each passing second.

"If what's worth it?" she called out hurriedly.

Her father's lips moved, but the response was delayed and just as her eyes opened, it echoed through her head.

_"A second chance, Pic. A second chance."_

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_**A/N2: For those that are still with me, thank you so much for reading.** _

_**I would also like to apologize to anyone who's reviews I did not respond to for the last chapter. I usually respond to each and every review, but they got away from me after such a long absence with this story. I won't let that happen again and promise to respond to all the ones for this new chapter.**_


	15. A Good Place to Start

**Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intend****ed.**

_**A/N: Thanks to all those still reading this story! :)**_

* * *

Bella sat up in bed, a muted calm mixed with heartache thrumming through her. While the dream had given her more questions than answers, knowing that an understanding was that much closer put her at ease.

She may have feared what the dreams were trying to tell her in the beginning, but she trusted her parents and if they told her to stop running, she would. She felt like she owed them that much, especially her mother, who had given her life so she could live.

Now that she was taking baby steps towards acceptance, she wished that she knew who or what she was supposed to forgive. Maybe it was herself.

She had spent too many years and sleepless nights punishing herself over her dreams. Even now she felt anger that things could have been much clearer if only she tried better to understand them.

_"Your denial closed it."_

Her father was right; she'd been living in that state for years. It was high time she found a new place to live.

Bella ran a hand through her hair, wincing slightly when her fingers got caught in the tangles. She glanced down at herself. At least the clothes she wore appeared to be clean and she did feel a little fresher than the last time she had woken up. She vaguely recalled a female face in the living room that night and despite the fact that she was a technically a stranger, hoped that she had been the one to change her.

She was back in the bedroom (once again accompanied by that frustrating sense of familiarity) and the sunlight that seeped through the same window she had contemplated sneaking out the first time she'd seen it allowed her to get a better look at her surroundings.

The spartan look of it, lacking any sort of affections save for the basic bedroom set necessities, along with the absence of color (not counting the green bedspread she sat on) screamed that this was a male's bedroom. It was strange though, how unused the room looked. There were no personal touches on the walls, no posters, no pictures and nothing strewn on the dresser to even indicate that someone occupied it. She bounced lightly on the bed. Hell, even the mattress felt brand new.

She caught something out of the corner of her eye and scootched over closer to the bed stand it was sitting on. It was a book, one that had obviously been read a lot, its cover worn and faded, so she couldn't make up the title. Picking it up, she flicked through the yellowed pages and reading a paragraph, deduced that it was a war novel of some sort. She closed the book, running her fingers over the cracks along the cover, feeling strangely comforted by the sight of them. Knowing that she had a shelf full of books at her own place that looked in the same shape, she felt something akin to kinship with whoever owned it.

Placing the book back down, she finally noticed the object next to it, a clearly brand new, bright purple hard bristled brush. Grateful, she picked it up and spent the next five minutes painstakingly brushing out the tangles in her hair. Tears were prickling her eyes by the end of it, her scalp throbbing with pain and it looked like half of her hair had ended up knotted in the hard bristles of the brush.

Setting the brush back where she found it, she swung her legs over the bed, standing with a lot more confidence than she had the night before. The tugging sensation from a few days ago was back and, shooting a cautious look at the door, she knew without a doubt that the blond haired man was out there.

Turning back towards the bed, she began to make it, nervously trying to gather up the courage to go out there. She was a little more thorough with the job than she was at her own house (ninety percent of the time she didn't even bother making her own bed), pulling down the covers tight enough to make the military proud. Running her hand down the thick cotton of the comforter to smooth out the wrinkles, she rolled her eyes as she realized she had officially entered stalling territory.

Her mother had told her to take chances, and right now there was no bigger chance than stepping outside that door and seeing what waited for her on the other side.

Steeling her back so she looked a lot more confident than she felt, Bella's steps were quick and assured as she approached the door.

_No door stays shut forever,_ she thought with a small smile as she curled her hands around the knob and pulled.

**-oo-**

Bella's lips twitched in amusement when the guy immediately jumped to his feet the second she opened the door. The action reminded her of an overexcited dog that her late grandmother used to have, who twitched at the slightest movement. Only this time, instead of a tail wagging in excitement, there was blatant fear on his face.

_Why should he be afraid?_ Bella wondered. She was the one in his house- a house he had obviously brought her to.

They were both silent as they stared at each other and Bella felt self-consciousness creep in as she finally got a good look at the man, without the cover of night or a foggy mind to cloud her vision. Despite the fact that his clothes (a practical mirror of what he was wearing the first night she met him) were rumpled and his hair was a bit of a mess, he was still one of the most attractive males she had ever seen.

A flash of gold caught her eye and she zeroed in on a small circular object hanging from his neck. She got the strange urge to touch it, but before she could step forward, his pale hand reached up and tucked it beneath his shirt.

He cleared his throat uncomfortably. "How are you feeling?"

"I've been better."

He chuckled nervously. "I'll bet. Would you like anything? I have some food... or water if you like?"

Just the mention of food made her stomach roil so violently, she doubted she'd be able to even hold water down.

"No thanks." She licked her lips uneasily and was once again reminded of the taste of her mouth. "Wouldn't happen to have a toothbrush, would you?"

He looked completely thrown by the casualness of her question, no doubt expecting her to either pitch a fit, burst into tears, attack him in some way- or some combination of the three. It was his lucky day. If she hadn't had that dream, she probably would have.

He nodded jerkily and said, "Yeah I do," before reaching towards the coffee table which she belatedly realized with covered with a veritable smorgasbord of personal care products. There was shampoo, conditioner, soap, bubble bath, deodorant, perfume and even a few things of makeup. It looked like even more was in the bags that were scattered on the ground around it.

He located a toothbrush and a tube of toothpaste, both still in their original packaging, and held them up. "I have other stuff as well," he stated as if it wasn't already obvious, "if you wanted to take a shower or something."

She might not be in panic mode at the moment, but there was no way she felt comfortable enough to take a shower. "Um, no thanks," she replied, shuffling close enough to take the items from his outstretched hand.

She remained where she was, staring down at the coffee table and admittedly feeling a little weirded out by all this stuff. _It rubs the lotion on its skin,_ she thought as she eyed a small bottle of the product.

He must of noticed her unnerved stare, because he chucked uncomfortably again and sheepishly rubbed at the back of his neck. "I had a friend pick up this stuff for me," he explained. "I don't really have any," a hesitation, "_feminine _type things here." He grimaced as he stared at the table. "I think she went a little overboard though."

Bella spotted a small blue and yellow box balanced on the edge and the table and felt amusement flood through her as she shifted the toothbrush and paste to one hand and bent down and picked it up with the other.

"You think?" she asked, holding up the box of tampons and jiggling them teasingly. "How'd she even know my brand?"

She could tell he was embarrassed, but fought a frown when his cheeks didn't flush, remaining his (un)natural marble white color instead.

_Strange,_ she thought, placing the box back down and straightening up to stare hard at him. It probably wasn't the most normal or polite thing to do, but normal had flown the coop days ago.

Instead of getting a little swoony over his features like she did earlier, she looked at him- _really_ looked at him. She realized that the paleness of his face was nowhere near her own pale pallor (and she easily considered herself the palest person in Texas) and couldn't be simply blamed on a lack of exposure to sunlight like hers could. Speaking of lack of sunlight, now that she finally glanced around her surroundings, she noticed that every single window in the in the living room (three in total) was blocked by the same heavy curtains that were in his room.

_And seriously, who really has gold freaking eyes? _

They looked like something that would be more at home with the tabby she'd had as a little girl. Although those had been a lot closer to the color of cloudy piss than actual gold (and had led to the cat being saddled with the cringe-worthy name Pi, which, despite what her mother and father had thought, did not refer to the apple version or the mathematical one). She wondered how he'd react if she told him his eyes reminded her of her old pissy eyed cat.

It was a little hard to look at him with a straight face after that (a strange sort of pride running through her with further proof that she was still able to laugh) and besides, she was starting to make the guy uncomfortable if his fidgeting was anything to go by.

"Bathroom?" she asked, holding up the toothbrush and toothpaste.

"There." He nodded behind her and she turned to see that, not far from the bedroom door she had exited was a second one, slightly ajar.

She sent him a small, if not a little forced smile. "Thanks," she murmured.

**-oo-**

Jasper exhaled shakily when the door clicked shut.

He had not expected this.

He had spent the better part of the morning bracing himself for her fear and anger, so he was wholly unprepared for her to walk out and engage him in conversation as calmly as she had.

Sure, there was a faint dusting of unease in her emotions, which was strengthened slightly by Charlotte's need to buy her weight in beauty products. He glared down at the discarded box of tampons silently asking her what the hell she'd been thinking. And now Bella was in his bathroom. Not running out his front door screaming bloody murder, but brushing her teeth like she was at home and getting ready for the day.

_She is home._

A blissful smile stretched his face at the thought. It was still a long shot, but maybe she felt so at ease because she was starting to remember.

_Hope._

What a strange feeling _that_ was.

**-oo-**

Bella scrubbed her teeth, studiously ignoring her reflection in the mirror. She didn't want to confirm the fact that she probably looked like hell just yet. Instead she stared at the glassed in shower and distantly wondered why the woman had purchased bubble bath for a tub that clearly did not exist.

The tenseness was leaving her shoulders as she was presented with further proof that her being here hadn't been planned in anyway and that the man waiting for her in the living room (and apparently two others) were just as nervous as she was.

She spat the foamy remnants of the toothpaste into the sink and twisted on the cold water tap. Rinsing off her toothbrush, she left the water running as she placed it down on the onyx counter top. Bending at the waist, she cupped her hands under the gushing stream and splashed the icy water on her face. A quick burst of energy shot through her and she felt completely clear minded for the first time since she woke up. Straightening up, she noticed a ripped half of a towel and, giving it a quick cursory sniff (and smelling nothing but fabric softener) she patted her face dry with it.

Finally looking up at the mirror, she frowned at her appearance, touching the faint purple smudges of exhaustion under her eyes. What had happened to her mother wasn't responsible for that, she hadn't been sleeping very well since arriving in Galveston... and, though she didn't want to be making any crazy accusations, she had the feeling that it was somehow connected to that man. After all, her dad had pretty much suggested it as such.

Thinking of the dream, she wondered if she was being foolish. If what she had seen and heard had been created by a mind that had fractured under the pressure and used it as a way to cope. That she was simply telling herself everything she wanted to here and slapping her parents faces on it so she'd be more inclined to listen.

_You're doing it again,_ she chided silently. _Looking for any excuse not to listen. Besides, if that was the case, don't you think you'd be a little more forthcoming with, well, **yourself**?_ She chuckled weakly, her throat grating slightly at the action. There certainly was truth to the thought, that dream had really only been a step up from trees and rocks.

_So where does that leave me?_ she wondered. She had been desperate to hear all this from her parents, but wasn't so sure if the feeling extended to a stranger... who she somehow knew wasn't a stranger at all. _Well, that sounds like as good a starting point as any,_ she decided, smoothing down the wrinkles in the plain t-shirt she wore.

She grimaced as she shot another look in the mirror, running her hand self-consciously through her borderline greasy hair. Normally she went a few days in between washing with no trouble, but she imagined an overabundance of sweat brought on by fear and rolling around on the ground outside wasn't exactly conducive to a good hair day. She might have to amend her stand on the no shower thing.

But first...

She inhaled deeply and exited the bathroom. The guy was just where she left him, standing as still as a statue behind the coffee table, every part of him tensed so much she was concerned his skin would start cracking under the pressure.

"Can we sit?" she asked politely, hoping that he'd be more inclined to do it if she was the one who put the suggestion out. His almost militaristic stance was making her a little uneasy, and the longer she looked at him, the more she expected him to bark out, '_drop down and give me twenty!' _

He nodded slowly and took two small steps backwards until the back of his knees touched the sofa behind him. He sank down, perching himself on the edge of the seat as stiffly as he stood and Bella fought the urge to roll her eyes.

_Won the battle, but not the war,_ she thought with frustrated amusement and wondered if the conversation was going to be as stilted as his posture. If that was the case, she'd seriously consider asking him to knock her over the head so she could go back to her dream world and force whatever answers she was supposed to get out of him out of her parents instead.

Though the sofa was big enough to fit three, Bella headed for the matching chair across from it, studiously ignoring the twinge in her heart when the man frowned in disappointment. She curled one leg underneath her as she sat, determined to look more at ease than she felt, but couldn't stop herself from shifting nervously in the seat when she realized she was unsure of exactly how to begin the conversation.

"You don't have to be afraid of me," he said sadly.

"I'm not afraid of you." She didn't know who was more surprised by that, her or him.

"Because I'm not-" the defensive words died on his lips. "Wait... what?"

"I said I'm not afraid of you. I know I should be because for all intents and purposes, you're a stranger. But I'm not."

"You really mean that." His voice was awed when he said it (and she got the feeling it wasn't a question), before he frowned. "All intents and purposes?"

"I'm gonna ask you a question and I want a straight answer. An _honest_ one."

She saw his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed. "Alright."

She closed her eyes for a short second, before blinking them open to meet his darkened gold gaze steadily and opened her mouth to ask and finally get the answer that had plaguing her since she met him. "Do I know you?"

"...Yes."

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_**A/N2: Ugg.. yes, I leave you with a bit of a cliff hanger, but please refrain from getting out your pitch forks. I'm going to do my darnedest to get the next chapter out tout freaking suite, but let's just say, Jasper's being a bit difficult. **_


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